Nemesis
by Morganalafay
Summary: When a young girl barely escapes with her life by fleeing to Cackle's, she sets in motion a chain of catastrophic events. Agatha Cackle has escaped from custody. Mistress Broomhead seeks revenge after the humiliation she suffered at the hands of a certain worst witch and her former protégé. Cackle's academy will never be the same again.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello! *waves* so this is my first, and very late foray, into the Worst Witch fanfiction. I've loved this series ever since I was little and I was delighted to discover, only about two weeks ago, that there was a fanfiction archive for it. I couldn't resist writing a story of my own. **_

_**This story centres around Mildred and Constance Hardbroom, who is, unsurprisingly, my favourite character. **__Kate Duchêne's performance as the legendary HB was mind blowing and couldn't have been more perfect. _

_****__This story is dedicated to NCD, whose amazing story inspired my own and who encouraged me to write this :)_

_****__I think this is set a little bit after the Dragon's Hoard episode in the TV series, and it is definitely set before the last episode of the second series, because Miss Bat is going to be in this story. I mean, the woman hides in a cupboard, how could you not love her?_

_**Anyway, without further ado, here is my first attempt a WWFF. Please read and enjoy!**_

* * *

_**Nemesis**_

_**Chapter 1**_

The Goddess of Elements was furious. At least, that was how Mildred imagined it. Rain pelted down against the worn stones of Castle Overblow from clouds so black that they obscured the night sky. Thunder roared directly above and flashes of lightning illuminated every corner of her dingy room. The savage wind whistled among the turrets, howling down the cold empty corridors and under the door, demanding to be let in. Mildred could just picture the Goddess standing in the thick clouds, a look of wrath on her face as she sent waves of ice cold rain to ravage the landscape.

Mildred had never liked the dark, especially not in this sort of weather. She sat hunched at the head of her bed, cocooned in a blanket. Tabby was curled against her chest, shielding her against the vicious cold. A single candle stood by Mildred's bedside, its flame flickering dangerously in the cruel draft, sending malicious shadows dancing over the walls.

She shivered, hugging the blanket more tightly around her, eyes watching the shadows nervously. The familiar shapes in her room seemed distorted and frightening in the harsh flashes of lightning. They reminded her of what really frightened her about the dark. What lurked in the darkest depths of the shadows? What nightmare was waiting to leap out of the blackness as soon as her back was turned?

Somehow, this night was worse than the others. In her time at Cackle's she had grown used to the sudden violent storms, the way the wind picked up in the corridors and rattled the doors. But something was different about tonight. Mildred could feel it, a tension, crackling in the air like the sparks of a forest fire, speaking of a danger that she did not understand. It was too quiet, despite the wild storm; the silence after each thunder clap, the feeling that she was alone in the great castle, the feeling that the world was holding its breath.

Burying her fingers in Tabby's scruffy fur for security, Mildred her shook herself, trying to remind herself that it was just a storm, that she was bound to be fanciful on a night like this. Another clap of thunder rolled overhead and she jumped, heart pounding in her ears. Tabby, startled out of a deep sleep, streaked towards the small window of the room, fur on end.

Mildred laughed 'Oh Tabby!' It was a blessed release from the tension. Mildred climbed out of her small bed, walked on tip toe and bent to pick up her rather indignant cat quickly, feeling the cold already seeping into her bare feet.

Mildred cradled Tabby against her chest, half hiding her face in his hair and straightened up. There was a flash of lightning and Mildred spun to the window, peering out into the half-darkness. In that brief flash, something had caught her eye.

The moon had emerged from behind a bank of thick black clouds, and in the silvery light Mildred was able to see that there was something moving in the night sky. A small dark shape was moving towards the school courtyard, descending from the direction of the forest. Mildred would recognise that struggling awkward shape anywhere. A witch on a broomstick, struggling to shield herself from the fierce cold; Mildred had been in that situation many times. The wind was tugging determinedly at the witch's cloak, whipping it around her, trying to snatch it from shoulders hunched against the wind and rain.

Three more witches suddenly rose over the wall and there was an abrupt flare of red sparks that shot directly towards the first witch. The first witch swerved quickly to avoid the attack and was forced to duck again as more and more flares of sparks narrowly missed her.

Mildred gasped, 'Tabby…they're trying to kill her' the hairs had risen on the back of her neck at the thought.

A flare of bright blue-white lightning lit up the scene. Mildred was out of the door and fleeing down the corridor before she had fully grasped that her feet were moving. In the sudden moment of clarity Mildred had recognised one of the attacking witches. Those large round spectacles had been haunting her dreams for months; she would recognise them anywhere.

* * *

Mildred skidded to a halt in front of the great wooden doors and placed her hands against their worn surface. It was only then that she actually paused to think about what she was doing. A strange witch, descending in at night time during a fierce gale over a school full of young witches; it was a strange scenario in the least. It could be a trap laid by Agatha. Mildred shook herself and braced her hands against the heavy door; there was no way she was going to leave the witch out in the storm – especially if Agatha and her crones _were_ trying to kill her.

The door creaked open and the sounds of the storm filled the corridor like the echoes of a strange orchestra. She was immediately met with relentless rain that drove into her face like stinging shards of ice. Within seconds of emerging into the night, her nightgown was almost completely soaked.

Trying to ignore the rain dripping into her eyes, Mildred peered out into the night, just as the unknown witch landed in the flooding courtyard. Mildred was moving towards her, when Agatha swooped overhead and shot a final blaze of sparks that streaked like fireworks across the darkness. This time, Agatha's aim was perfect.

The spell hit the witch directly in the back with such force that it threw her towards the ground. Mildred lunged forward, caught the injured witch and dragged her upright, a sense of horror and urgency filling her as she stagged back towards the safety of the castle.

She heard a cackle of triumph from one of the witches, followed a split second later by scream of fury as another realised what was happening. Mildred increased her pace, half carrying, half dragging the semi-conscious witch. Less than a foot from the door, Mildred ducked and flung herself through the arch of the doorway, as an instinct she didn't know she possessed urged her to get out of the way. Pulling the limp witch with her, she hurled herself against the heavy oak door. The combined weight of the two witches slammed the door shut, just as a spell soared through the air.

Mildred felt the vibrations of the curse thrumming through the ancient wood as she reeled away, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She stood for a moment, staring fixedly at the door, afraid that Agatha and her crones would try and force it open. But it seemed that they had given up, at least for now, for she could hear nothing but the continuous rumble of thunder.

Heart still pounding, she turned to the witch she had just rescued. Mildred was supporting the witch with an arm around her waist, and the would-be victim had flung her own arm around Mildred's back, her head lolling like a rag doll on her saviour's shoulder.

With a slightly trembling hand, Mildred pulled the sodden hood back and received something of a shock. The witch was a young girl, no older than Mildred herself. Mildred's brow furrowed, 'what on earth did they want with you?'

As if in answer, the young witch's eyes snapped open mere centimetres from Mildred's face. Blue eyes locked with blue as Mildred met the witch's gaze. Mildred felt a very odd sensation, as if a cold hand had just passed down her spine; there was something very… familiar about the witch's eyes, something that she couldn't put her finger on. She blinked, breaking the connection and shifted her grip on the witch, so that her arm wasn't touching the place where the spell had hit her, and started to support the witch along the corridor, intent on reaching the staff room as soon as possible.

The witch moaned quietly, flinching as a spasm of pain shot up her back. Mildred glanced sideways at her, opening her mouth to speak, intent on giving the young witch some encouragement.

All thoughts of that died however, when the witch spoke first. 'Mildred…' her voice was barely above a whisper, but the word she had uttered could not have been clearer.

Mildred froze, her mouth parting slightly in shock as a startling realisation filled her. The witch knew who she was, and not in the way someone would recognise another person from a photograph. Somehow, the witch really _knew_ her. Mildred swallowed, attempting to find her voice, when she noticed that the colour was rapidly draining from the witch's already pale face.

The witch tried to speak again, and the urgency in her eyes was suddenly extremely clear, 'Mildred… I have to… you need to warn…' She staggered suddenly and Mildred was forced to lean her against a wall as her weight suddenly became impossible to bare.

The witch slid to the stone floor with a groan and Mildred shot a desperate glance over her shoulder. The staff room was no more than five metres away now, but it was abundantly clear that she was not going to be able to get the witch there. So many questions were running through the confused student's mind, but she understood that witch had something very urgent to say, and questions like 'how the hell do you who I am?' would have to wait for now.

Mildred reached forward and grasped the witch's hands, 'who? Who do you need to warn?' She tried to speak firmly yet encouragingly, understanding that the witch was definitely struggling to stay conscious.

Gratitude flashed briefly across the witch's face at the realisation of what Mildred was doing. 'I need to… Constance… you… both have to be… careful', the witch gasped the last word out and sucked in a large breath, obviously fighting to gather her scattered thoughts. Her eyelids kept drifting shut.

_Constance? _As far as Mildred knew, the only people who ever called HB Constance were in the staff room down the corridor. _Why is this girl using HB's first name?_ She wondered. Frowning, Mildred said, 'Miss Hardbroom? You need to warn Miss Hardbroom to be careful?' understanding dawned, 'Miss Hardbroom and I both have to be careful because of Agatha, is that right?'

The witch nodded, gripping Mildred's hands tightly in her own, 'you have to… Agatha… is working…' the witch struggled for breath, '…Broomhead… she… they want to… destroy…school'.

Mildred could literally see the strength fading from the witch's eyes. Her thoughts were so muddled and confused that for a moment she strove to understand what she had just said. When she did, her eyes popped out of her head and she swallowed. 'Agatha Cackle and Mistress Broomhead are working together to destroy this school?' her head was reeling from the idea; when would those two just leave Cackle's alone? As she saw it, Agatha would probably never give up, and it seemed that Mistress Broomhead had been so humiliated by their last encounter that she was determined to bring the school to its knees.

The witch's face flooded with relief, but it appeared that she hadn't finished yet. 'You both… be careful…Mildred…' Suddenly, the witch straightened and a strange energy seemed to radiate from her eyes. When she spoke again, it was in a much different voice, in a tone that seemed to echo with strange harmonics. 'This is just the beginning'.

The energy drained from her face just as quickly as it had come and the witch slumped against the wall, her eyes closing as she lost her struggle to stay conscious. With a trembling hand, Mildred reached out and pressed two fingers to the base of the witch's neck. The strongly beating pulse told her that the witch had just fainted.

Mildred sat back on her haunches and stared at the strange witch. The dark cloak had done little to shield her from the rain, and the soaked material clung to her body, showing that she was quite thin. She was also very tall, at least as tall as Mildred, which was why she had not originally realised that she was just a girl. The witch's long dark hair clung to her neck and the side of her pale face, which was still dripping rain water. She looked like someone who had just been saved from drowning.

A shiver ran through Mildred's body as the adrenaline began to ware off, alerting her to just how wet and cold she was herself. It was still raining outside and the silence of the castle seemed to press down on her from all sides. The last words the witch had spoken were ringing like bells through her head and the threatening atmosphere of the night was twisting them it to something dark and ominous.

And quite suddenly, Mildred had the same feeling that she had up in her room, the same sure sense of clarity that had kept her awake all night. Somehow she knew that her life, that life at Cackle's, would never be the same again.

* * *

_**so what do you think? It was a bit short, but the chapters will get longer, and HB and everyone else will be in the next chapter :) **_

_**please review and let me know what you think, criticism is welcome, but please no flames! :D**_


	2. Chapter 2

_***skids in on a broomstick flying at an unsafe speed* **_

_**Hi everyone! I am so sorry for the length of time this has taken! Everything just seriously started to pile up, and when I actually did have time to write I was really struggling to get some of the characters in character. Can you all forgive me? *offers several hundred cupcakes as a bribe* **_

_**I'm a bit worried about this chapter, cause it has HB in it, and I completely love her, but I'm a bit worried that she isn't in character. I really hope she is! *crosses fingers*  
**_

_**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! and thanks to everyone who welcomed me to the fandom! This chapter is dedicated to you!**_

_**So, please read and review! I hope it makes up for the length of time! **_

* * *

_**Chapter 2**_

Constance felt, rather than heard, Mildred scream out her name. The potion mistress was sitting at the staff table, staring into the distance as she sipped her tea, ignoring the conversation between Amelia and Imogen and the sound of Davina humming tunelessly behind her. She was a million miles away, lost in the darker memories of her past, haunted by the eyes of the only woman she had ever feared, when the desperate cry shattered her defences.

Constance shot to her feet. Tea slopped over the china saucer onto the pale blue table cloth as she slammed her cup down. The reaction of her colleagues would have been comical, had she not been fixing her mind on that frantic sound and where it had come from.

Miss Cackle had been sitting opposite her deputy, observing Constance through tired eyes, half listening to Imogen's plans for a new fitness programme and thoughtfully munching on a slice of cheesecake. Ever since the inspection the school had suffered at the hands of Constance's old tutor, Constance had become very withdrawn, refusing to answer any direct questions from the head mistress as to her wellbeing. She almost never joined in conversations with her fellow teachers anymore. At the sudden movement, Amelia started and choked on a mouthful of cheesecake, barely avoiding spilling scalding tea all over her lap.

Imogen, who at that precise moment had been detailing a particularly gruelling run up the side of the steep mountain, threw her hands up in front of her face, as if expecting some sort of attack, and hit herself in the side of the head, hard enough to knock her out of her own chair.

Davinia's reaction was typically over the top. The chanting teacher had been sitting in an arm chair, chewing daintily on a camomile flower, humming quietly while reminiscing about her time in Mongolia. The highly strung witch leapt from her chair with a piercing shriek and flew towards the staff room cupboard. Once there, she yanked the door open and hid behind it, peeping nervously through the opaque glass of the cupboard door.

Constance remained perfectly still for a moment, oblivious to the bewildered stares she was receiving or the reaction she had caused. Then she crossed the room and flung the door open, so hard that it slammed on its hinges.

'Constance! What on earth is the matter?' The shout Amelia sent after her deputy went unheeded and the headmistress was forced to climb out her chair and follow the young woman, joined a moment later by the other two, who sensed the urgency left in her wake.

Striding quickly down the corridor, Constance wasn't at all aware of the other teachers following her. All she could feel was the fear and desperation radiating from further down the corridor. Now that she had dragged herself away from the dark treacherous depths of her mind, Constance could feel that something was very wrong in the present. The tension in the air was not just due to the storm outside, and she could feel the after signs of violent and dark magic thrumming through the stone walls. Constance cursed the fact that whenever she succumbed to her exhaustion she missed something vitally important. Like the time Agatha Cackle had invaded and her students had ended up saving the school – at great risk to their own lives – while she had been sleeping. She shivered as a sense of fear so strong, yet so familiar, crashed into her in a cascading wave of emotion. It was a fear that she knew all too well, a fear that still haunted her dreams whenever she dared to sleep.

Constance walked so quickly that she was almost running, and the others were having difficulty keeping up with her long strides. So when she stopped in her tracks, the three of them barely managed to prevent themselves from slamming into her back. When they saw what had stopped her though, they went completely still.

It was a sight that they never would have expected to see. A drenched and dishevelled Mildred Hubble was sitting on the cold stone floor, her eyes wide and staring. She was trembling, through from cold or fear the teachers could not tell. And slumped against the wall opposite her was a girl they had never seen before, swathed in a sodden black cloak that succeeded in doing nothing but emphasising the leanness of her body as it clung to her limp form. Her face was pale and bore signs of a stressful ordeal; bruises on her high cheek bones, a gash across her hair line. For once, the four teachers were completely at a loss at what to do; it was the first time something of this kind had happened.

Then Mildred looked up. The idea that everything was about to change, coupled with the realisation that Agatha was on the loose and that both she and Mistress Broomhead would probably be out for her blood had brought a sudden overwhelming fear rising to the surface so quickly that her mind had gone blank. She'd done the only thing she could think of. She had screamed, screamed for the one teacher she was sure would hear her. Now, under the steady, if apprehensive and surprised, gaze of her form teacher, Mildred felt a tremendous sense of relief. Despite the known tension between her and Miss Hardbroom, there was no doubting that her presence was reassuring.

Constance saw relief flood Mildred's face and it was that which spurred her into action. She knelt down beside the pair of young witches and placed her delicate hand briefly against the unknown witch's forehead. Removing her hand, she cast a glance over her shoulder at her still frozen colleagues, 'she's alive, unconscious, definitely injured'. She turned to Mildred, who by now had begun to calm her racing heart, and reached out a hand to grasp her by the shoulder. 'Mildred?' when her pupil didn't respond she shook her slightly, 'Mildred!'

Mildred snapped to attention, her gaze becoming more frightened at her teacher's stern tone of voice. Seeing the effect she had had, Constance said more gently, 'There will come a time and a place for you to tell us what happened, but for now I just want to basic facts. She was hit by a spell wasn't she? Where was she hit, and did you recognise the spell at all?'

Mildred swallowed and her gaze travelled past Constance to the still stricken headmistress. 'It was Agatha, Miss'. Amelia gasped and felt rage bubble inside her at the thought that her sister would attack a young witch in conditions such as this. Mildred turned back to Constance, to find that the elder witch was staring at her intently. Constance could see that, despite the fact that Mildred had just told the truth, there was something else. Mildred knew immediately that her form teacher knew that she had only told her half of the truth and pleaded with her eyes that she would not push her. Not in front of the other teachers. What she had to say was something she felt Miss Hardbroom should know first.

Constance narrowed her eyes slightly, sensing what Mildred was desperately trying to convey to her, and gave the slightest inclination of her head. Seeing it, Mildred breathed out sharply through her nose and continued, 'I didn't recognise the spell. I think it was a red colour…lots of sparks. She was hit here' Mildred gestured to her own back, just above the ribs.

Amelia abruptly moved to join the group on the floor, 'Constance, we need to get her stabilised. We must find out what damage curse caused her'. The headmistress glanced up at the other two women who were hovering uncertainly behind Constance. 'Imogen I want you to light a fire in the infirmary, make a space as comfortable as possible'. The P.E. teacher nodded and jogged away down the corridor. Amelia turned to the chanting teacher and hesitated briefly. Davina was twirling her baton nervously in her hands, her eyes fixed on the injured witch. A strand of frizzy hair had fallen down in front of her worried gaze. Amelia recognised that look; Miss Bat was struggling not to break down in a nervous trembling heap. 'Davinia, dear? Do you think you could make some nice hot tea? Mildred looks half frozen and the poor girl will need something when she wakes up'. The kindly headmistress recognised that sending the nervous witch to check that the castle was secure was not a wise move; she would have to do it herself.

Meanwhile, Constance summoned a thick blanket and draped it gently around Mildred's trembling shoulders, much to the surprise of her student. She then conjured a stretcher and levitated the still witch onto it with an expert hand. Her eyes met Mildred's briefly and a current of understanding passed through their gaze. Constance understood that she was the reason Mildred was holding back, and she understood that Mildred wasn't going to tell her what it was until they were alone. With the stretcher hovering beside her, Constance said, 'Amelia, I think Mildred should come to the infirmary with me, we may be able to get some sense out of all this'.

Amelia nodded, 'good thinking Constance. I will meet you there shortly; I must check that the castle is secure. The last thing we need is another invasion from my dreaded sister'.

* * *

Mildred stumbled and nearly fell as she materialised in the infirmary. She was saved only by the quick reflexes of her form mistress as Constance caught her just before she hit the ground. Constance pulled Mildred upright and set her down gently in a chair, casting her an apologetic look. 'I apologise Mildred, I should have warned you. It can come as rather a shock to those unused to materialising'.

Mildred shook her head, 'it's fine Miss Hardbroom, you needed to get here as quickly as possible'. Her head was spinning and she felt slightly sick, though she doubted that was from materialising.

The infirmary was really little more than a room, with a layout much like the staff room, only bigger. The large fireplace, lit by a welcome roaring fire, was the main feature of the mainly bare room, accompanied by several beds and medicine cabinets. The school did not have a full time nurse or matron, though all the staff had basic first aid training, because despite everything that could go wrong in a school for young witches, there had never been any need for one. There had never been any serious accidents, nothing that couldn't be cured with some rest and a minor healing spell.

Constance turned her attention to the witch and gently deposited her in a nearby bed. She waved her hand at the stretcher, causing it to vanish, and then set about removing the witch's wet clothes.

Mildred watched as Constance methodically began to undress the witch, unfastening the clasp of her sodden cloak and peeling it off her body. Underneath the dark cloak, the witch was wearing a long black dress that looked distinctly warn and second hand. Very carefully, Constance turned the witch onto her back and began to undo the buttons at the back of the dress. She had undone the buttons when a strange sense of foreboding filled her. It crept up her back from the base of her spine, and her fingers stilled as she stared at the very slight gap she had made. The feeling was so strong that she was unable to stop her hands from trembling as she parted the dress. The worn material fell away to the base of the witch's spine, and Constance froze at the sight that greeted her.

The witch's alabaster skin was marred by numerous pale scars that scattered over her shoulder blades and down the length of her back like a strange spider web. The sound of the raging storm and the roaring fire, the room and its contents, everything fell away as Constance stared in shock at the marks, her brain simply refusing to accept what she was seeing. She sank slowly to the floor, her shaking legs unable to bare her weight. It simply couldn't be happening_. I was the only one, wasn't I?_ The world span around her and her stomach heaved fiercely as memories locked at the back of her mind rose up in her mind, and a sense of horror filled her. There was a strange ringing in her ears and it was as if all her senses had suddenly abandoned her. She could do nothing but stare, tears stinging her eyes at the realisation that she wasn't the only one. There was no way she could be mistaken; she had identical scars on her own back. She would recognise the work of Hecketty Broomhead anywhere.

Hands grasped her shoulders and a faint voice shouted at her as if from far down a tunnel. Mildred stepped back from her stricken teacher, frightened and bewildered at her actions. While Mildred could see why anyone would find the sight of so much obvious abuse sickening, she had not been prepared for this. Her form mistress was kneeling on the floor beside the bed; her usually straight shoulders were shaking intensely and her hazel eyes were clouded with horror and fear. When Constance's eyes had filled with tears, Mildred had really begun to panic. What frightened her was that Miss Hardbroom seemed to have completely forgotten where she was.

The powerful, formidable woman that so often terrified her was gone, replaced by a woman who had completely forsaken her mask and was obviously struggling not to break down. Mildred was unsure what to do. Every instinct she had was screaming at her to reach out to the older witch and comfort her, but she was unsure whether Miss Hardbroom would appreciate the gesture.

Mildred twisted around to look down at the witch lying on her stomach. Her heart sped up at the sight of the pearly white marks across her back. She swallowed as bile rose at the back of her throat. Her eyes briefly flickered to the base of the witch's back; the cuts inflicted on the witch were more recent there, some only just beginning to heal properly. Whoever had done it had been very thorough. _Don't pretend you don't know who did this; _the voice at the back of Mildred's head was angry and bitter, _why else would HB have reacted so badly? _

Trying to push down her rising nausea, Mildred examined the girl's back for any signs that the curse Agatha had fired at her had done any damage. She was just about to pull away when she saw that one of the ribs of her lower back was sticking out at an awkward angle, straining against the pale skin.

Mildred knew enough to know that a broken rib meant that there was a risk of a punctured lung. She turned back to Constance and grabbed the older witch by the shoulders, 'Miss Hardbroom!' Constance continued to stare straight ahead, oblivious to the urgency in Mildred's voice. Mildred hesitated for a moment. Then she reached out and took Constance's pale face in her hands. She was struck by how cold and smooth her face was. 'Miss Hardbroom! Please, snap out of it!'

It was the unexpected gesture that brought Constance back to the present. Had Mildred shaken her teacher or shouted at her there was a good chance that Constance might have lashed out, so shaken by the memories of her past as she was. The caring and gentle action was something that she was so unused to that when she did realise what was happening she simply sat there staring at her pupil in astonishment.

Mildred saw the fear and surprise swirling around in her teacher's hazel eyes. Very quietly, as if afraid to scare her teacher further, she whispered, 'who did that to her?' she paused. 'What did they do to you?' the question slipped out before she could stop herself, and she held her breath, shocked at her own boldness. She had not intended to ask either question but she hadn't been able to stop herself, and now she was afraid that Miss Hardbroom would be angry that she had dared to ask such a personal question.

Constance took a deep breath, attempting to gather some of her remaining composure. Mildred's touch was strangely comforting. Constance focused on the warmth of the young witch's hands, allowing it to steady her, slowly locking the threatening memories away at the back of her mind. Mildred smiled softly, completely surprised that Constance had not yet pulled away, shocked that she was allowing such a personal gesture to occur, much less allow the physical contact.

Constance opened her mouth to speak, though she had absolutely no idea what she was going to say, when the door began to open. In a flash, Constance was up off the floor, towering to her full impressive height, standing in front of Mildred and the injured witch with her arms spread as if to shield them from view. Whether she actually expected Hecketty Broomhead to walk through the door, or whether she was expecting Agatha Cackle, she didn't know. All she knew was that the urge to shield Mildred and the strange girl that she shared a horrifying connection to over shadowed any reason.

The door swung open and Davina floated into the room, carrying a tray containing two steaming cups. Seeing Constance's protective stance, she stopped, casting her eyes nervously around the room, expecting there to be something dangerous lurking in the shadows. When she saw nothing, Davina hurried over to the table near the bed and deposited the tray carefully. She then turned to Constance, who by now had lowered her arms and folded them tightly over her chest. 'Well? Is she hurt?' the chanting teacher sounded anxious and worried, though those emotions were not necessarily because of the unknown witch. She was unable to prevent her gaze from flicking back to Constance; was it her imagination, or did the other witch look far too pale? That surely couldn't be tears in her eyes, could it?

Mildred meanwhile, had pulled the material back over the witch's back, concealing her scars from view. She then moved to stand further away from the two teachers, close to the fire, grateful for the warmth.

Constance looked at the unknown witch and said, 'the curse broke a rib and probably inflicted some rather nasty bruising, but the damage doesn't seem too serious; there is no internal bleeding and the rib hasn't punctured a lung. Nothing that can't be fixed'. She was growing increasingly uncomfortable under Davinia's concerned gaze.

Davina breathed a sigh of relief, 'well that's good. I'll leave you to it, shall I?' she could sense the tension in the room, and guessed that she had interrupted something important.

The witch backed away to the door and was halfway through it when Constance turned to her. 'Davinia, please tell Amelia that I must speak with her urgently after I've dealt with this'. Her tone, though distinctly less commanding than it usually was, left no room for argument.

Davina nodded and closed the door behind her. Once Constance was sure of her departure, she pulled the material away from the witch's back again. This time, though her heart quickened at the sight of the scars, she was able to stop herself from breaking down. Instead, she placed her casting fingers just above the girl's broken rib and muttered a spell under her breath. As she finished reciting it, a tendril of white light curled from her fingers and sank into the skin of the witch's back. There was an audible pop and the rib moved back into place, perfectly healed. It was a simple spell that she had been forced to master long ago, and provided you performed it perfectly it required very little energy.

Constance remained staring at the witch for a moment. If what she suspected was right, then the witch before her knew far more about her own past than she would have liked. If there was anyone who would be able to see past the walls that she had built up around herself over the years, it was the still unknown witch lying before her. Constance flicked her wrist, re-buttoning the back of the dress, and then conjured another thick blanket, laying it over the witch and tucking it in around her body to prevent a draft.

Mildred felt something lurch in her stomach at the strangely motherly gesture. She had often wondered why the teachers at Cackles were unmarried. While she was sure that Miss Drill had more than a strictly friends relationship with Serge, the man the girls had met while camping several months ago, she was pretty sure that the other teachers had no such relationship. This had puzzled her sometimes. While Miss Hardbroom often scared the living daylights out of her students and was extremely strict, Mildred knew that there was a lot more to the older witch. She had seen past her frosty exterior on more than one occasion. So why had she never married? There was no denying that HB was very beautiful, especially when she wore her hair out. A smile flitted across Mildred's lips as she remembered how surprised everyone had been on the night of the Halloween celebration. With her hair falling in gentle waves to her waist, HB had looked far less frightening.

Thinking about it, Mildred realised that she already knew the answer. It was the same reason that HB had nearly broken down over seeing the girl's scars, the same reason that she kept an impenetrable wall around her and tried to make her students fear her.

'Mildred?' Mildred snapped out of her musings to see that Constance was standing right next to her, holding a steaming cup out for her to take. Hoping that her form tutor couldn't actually read minds, Mildred took it with a grateful smile and sat down in a chair beside the fire. She took a hesitant sip of the liquid, highly aware that Miss Bat's definition of 'tea' could differ greatly from her own, and was pleasantly surprised. The hot chocolate slid down her throat, warming her from the inside out.

Constance pulled a chair up opposite her student and seated herself gracefully, folding her hands in her lap. She gave Mildred a moment to gather her thoughts before saying, 'so Mildred, what happened? You and I both know that there is something else you didn't tell Miss Cackle. I would like to know exactly what happened'.

Mildred paused. Then she pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped the blanket more tightly around her, cradling the steaming drink between her cold hands. 'I couldn't sleep. It wasn't the storm really; I just felt that there was something…wrong'. Mildred hesitated, wondering how to continue. 'I looked out my window and I saw her' Mildred gestured at the witch. 'And then I saw the other witches, there were three of them, and they started to attack her. There was a flash of lightning and I recognised Agatha's spectacles, you know the large round ones'.

Constance nodded, frowning slightly, 'so you decided to break the school rules and rush out in a raging gale to rescue a witch you knew nothing about?'

Mildred could feel her defences rising and she blurted out, 'you would have done the same'. Mildred slapped her hand over her mouth, shocked once again that she had dared to speak like that to Miss Hardbroom.

There was a stunned silence. Constance hadn't actually meant to criticise Mildred's actions, but what her student had said shocked her most of all because she knew perfectly well that what she had just said was true. Constance folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow, though she decided not to comment on what Mildred had just said. 'So what is it that you wouldn't tell the others?'

Highly aware that she was treading on dangerous ground, Mildred hastened to continue. 'She told me something before she passed out. She told me that you and I both have to be careful because Agatha Cackle is trying to destroy the school and…' here Mildred hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to shatter her teacher's defences by bringing up her former tutor.

Constance leaned forward slightly, sensing Mildred's concerns. 'Yes Mildred?'

Mildred took a deep breath, realising that she couldn't keep it forever. 'We have to be careful because Agatha is working with Hecketty Broomhead'.

Constance recoiled as if stung, throwing herself back in her chair and gripping the arms tightly as if she could physically get away from what Mildred's words. Mildred watched in despair as her teacher paled alarmingly, her eyes showing the horror she felt as her body began to shake. _Why?_ Constance screamed her frustration and fear in the only place shielded from prying eyes, _when will she just leave me alone?_ She wanted to scream outloud, wanted to deny it, wanted to dematerialise and never return. She wanted to run away from the woman she could never get away from. If only she could out run her fear.

By the time Constance had calmed herself once more, she realised too late that Mildred had already moved to comfort her. The girl was kneeling at her feet and grasping her pale hands in her own, gripping them tightly as if to steady her. Despite the dismay she felt about the fact that she had allowed one of her students to see past her cold exterior twice in less than an hour, Constance couldn't help the slight grateful smile that curved her lips. Mildred's heart was definitely in the right place.

She cleared her throat loudly and said gently, 'was that all Mildred?' she tried to ignore the fact that some part of her was refusing to let go of the girl's hands.

Mildred hesitated, glancing over at the still witch, the last words she had spoken booming once more through her mind. The young witch still didn't know what it was about those words that she found so frightening. Constance felt a tremble run through their connected hands. Constance squeezed Mildred's hands tightly; giving the girl what she hoped was a comforting smile. If it had been Amelia in her position, the headmistress would have embraced the girl and waited until she felt better. But Constance wasn't like the kindly elder witch, and she was still getting used to the strange feeling of actually allowing someone to help her. For now, a smile was all she had to offer.

It was enough. Mildred took a deep breath and said, 'she told me that this was just the beginning'. She paused, realising something that hadn't even crossed her mind up til this point. 'She didn't even tell me her name'.

There was a long heavy silence. Then Constance stood, gently pulling Mildred up and steered her over to the chair by the fire. Mildred picked up her hot chocolate and took a quick gulp, glad to find that it was still warm. Constance flicked her hand at the dying fire. The flames sprang to life again with a roar. 'Mildred, I want to you stay here. Just while I talk to Miss Cackle. I don't think she should be left alone. Could you do that for me?'

Mildred nodded without hesitation. Constance folded her arms over her chest and prepared to transport herself to the staff room when Mildred said, 'why do you think we have to be careful Miss Hardbroom? I mean, I understand why Agatha hates me and why she would want you…out of the way, but I can't see what Broomhead wants with me. I didn't do anything to her'.

Constance sighed. How could she even begin to explain Hecketty Broomhead's motives? 'I don't know Mildred. I assume that Agatha has told her of your heroic feats last year and she sees you as a threat. We won't know until she wakes up'. It wasn't the entire truth, but Constance was unsure whether she wanted to tell Mildred about Mistress Broomhead's obsession with perfection and failure. 'Mildred, whatever is going on, it is safe to say that what the girl said is true. Things won't be the same ever again, no matter how much we wish that nothing will change. Your life could very well be in danger, if I know Mistress Broomhead, and it would be a lie to say that you shouldn't be very careful. No more breaking the rules, no more midnight feasts. If you do as I say and don't do anything foolish, we might get you through this unscathed'.

Mildred swallowed, looking up at Miss Hardbroom fearfully. 'What about you Miss Hardbroom?' Mildred knew that her form teacher was scared; she could see it in her eyes.

Constance shook her head, 'I at least know what I'm dealing with. The academy is unfortunately quite innocent of what is to come'. _You don't stand a chance. _Constance tried to ignore the voice at the back of her head, though she was unsure whether it was referring to herself or Mildred.

Staring at Mildred, Constance had the overwhelming feeling to say something that would make her young pupil feel better. The only problem was that she wasn't very good at the sort of thing. 'Mildred…no matter what happens over the next few days I want you to trust your instincts. They have proven to be very good in the past. Things are not always as they seem, and you may find yourself facing something that is not necessarily what you think'. She hesitated. 'Follow your heart Mildred, trust what it tells you. Your heart is in the right place. And right now, that's the only advantage you have against Hecketty Broomhead.'.

And with that, Constance vanished.

* * *

Constance materialized outside the staff room door. Breathing heavily, she leaned against the wall beside it, resting her head back against its cool surface. Her head was whirling and she could feel her body shaking. She felt like curling up in a ball and hiding from the world and her problems. She felt like screaming her pain to the world, felt like showing every single person within 500 miles that she was not the cold emotionless woman they believed her to be. She wanted to beat her fists against the wall and sob those ugly violent sobs that shook your whole body. She hadn't cried like that since she was first taken under Hecketty's care. If you could call it care. Her vision blurred and she felt something warm and wet trickling down her face. Reaching up a hand, she was shocked to find that tears were flowing freely down her face.

_Pull yourself together Constance, a witch does not cry. A witch does not show weakness. You stupid child, how can you expect to excel if you spend all your time grovelling on the floor. Get up! _

Constance flinched as a phantom pain seared her skin. She pushed herself away from the wall and wiped her eyes determinedly with the back of her hand. Now was not the time for tears. After making sure that her appearance was presentable, Constance turned and flung the wooden door open.

She ignored the squeak from the corner of the room, and the splutter of tea being choked on, and instead fixed her eyes on the startled headmistress. 'Amelia, we have a crisis on our hands'.

* * *

Mildred was angry. She was angrier than she had ever been. The rage had bubbled from inside her the moment Miss Hardbroom had dematerialised, a rage so profound and intense that it was startling. And it was all directed at that the woman who terrified her form mistress. 'What right does she have to come here and destroy the school?' Mildred was pacing back and forth, waves of energy radiating from her tense body. 'What right does Agatha have to attack a witch in the middle of the night? What right does Broomhead have to haunt HB? What right does she have to physically scar a young girl and emotionally ruin a life?'

She wanted to smash something. She was still scared, there was no denying that, but if Agatha or Hecketty had marched into the room at that moment, Mildred felt they would have had a pretty hard time of it. Mildred threw herself down in a chair by the witch's bed and wrenched the bedside table open, scrambling around inside for anything she could vent her anger on. The sheer level of her rage scared her somewhat.

She pulled out a note pad and a pencil. She paused for a moment, considering shredding the paper and snapping the pencil. Then she flipped the note pad open and began to scribble on the white page, letting her wrath out through the flimsy led tip.

A few minutes later, Mildred sat back, reasonably calmer than she had been before. She gazed in some surprise at what she drawn. A tall woman stood among raging black clouds, her arms raised, and hair blacker than night twisting about her body. Her eyes flashed lightning; her mouth was open in a scream of rage, and her dress rippled with wild fire. It was a beautiful drawing, full of power and tension, and for a moment Mildred was almost sure she could see it moving. She touched the face of the Goddess of Elements, smiling slightly, _if I could, I would let you loose on them, I'd like to see them try and take you on._

_Mildred…_ Mildred sat bolt upright in her chair, the notepad and pencil slipping from her fingers to fall with a clatter on the stone floor. She stared at the girl in astonishment. She might have only heard the witch speak once, but she had very little doubt that the voice that had just spoken in her mind belonged to her. Still watching the witch, Mildred knelt down beside her. The young witch's beautiful - if bruised - face was just as still as ever. Slowly, wondering if she had imagined the voice, Mildred reached out and touched the pale skin of her forehead.

Mildred didn't even have time to blink. A hand shot up and out, snatching her hand away and gripping it tightly. The witch's eyes snapped open and Mildred saw fear and alarm in them. They remained staring at each other for a moment, neither daring to move. Mildred had the strong feeling that the girl wasn't seeing her at all. And then the witch blinked, vibrant blue eyes clearing as if a veil had been removed from in front of them. She released Mildred's wrist, clearly shocked at her actions. 'God, Mildred, I'm sorry'. Her voice was full of concern, and once again she was struck by the feeling that the girl knew her.

'It's understandable. I mean, the last you probably remember was being attacked by Agatha'. Mildred was rather shaken, but it was not because of what the witch had done. She realised that it had been a reflex action, and the fact that she would immediately think that anyone touching her was trying to hurt her angered Mildred greatly.

The witch, obviously relieved that Mildred wasn't angry with her, said with urgency, 'did you tell her?'

Mildred nodded in assent. She was struggling not to let the anger show on her face. Focusing instead on the rising curiosity inside her, she asked, 'was that you?'

The girl frowned, rolling onto her back slowly so that she could begin to sit up. 'Was what me?' She had a pleasant voice, soft and musical, yet Mildred felt the girl did not laugh often.

'I heard your voice. Up here'. Mildred tapped her temple, wondering if she had actually imagined it.

A strange expression flashed across the girl's face. Fear perhaps? Or guilt? Whatever it was, it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. The girl nodded slowly, 'yes, it was'.

Her tone was guarded, and Mildred understood that the girl had no desire to tell her how it was possible. Mildred extended her hand suddenly, smiling. 'I'm Mildred Hubble by the way, though you seem to already know that'. She had no wish to push the girl who had obviously been through so much; if she wanted to tell her, then she would, but Mildred would not force her to.

The witch took Mildred's hand in her own and shook it, smiling. 'Hope. Just Hope'.

'Hope', repeated Mildred. She thought of the scars on her back. Looking into her eyes, Mildred could see a strength that had not been there before, a fire that refused to drown. Her name definitely suited her.

* * *

**So, what do you think? please review to let me know, and as always, criticism is welcome! **


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hello again! *waves enthusiastically* **_

_**Thanks to DissectingPomegranates, Princess Sammi, Guest, and the amazing NCD for reviewing the last chapter! It gave me encouragement and spurred me to write faster! :D**_

_**By the way, did you know that you can actually check how many people have viewed your story? That encouraged me to, because I was a little worried that there wasn't much interest in this story. :)**_

_**Anyway, on to the third chapter!**_

* * *

_**Chapter 3**_

'So let me get this straight. This girl, whose name we don't even know, came here to warn us that Hecketty Broomhead has teamed up with Agatha Cackle and they both want to destroy the school?' Imogen couldn't help the incredulous note in her voice. While she had taken an instant dislike to Mistress Broomhead when she had come to inspect the school, she couldn't help but feel that the assent from wishing to close down the school to destroying it had escalated rather quickly.

Constance narrowed her eyes, hackles rising at the tone in Imogen's voice. She knew perfectly well that her story sounded slightly insane. She had told them everything…well, almost. She had left out the part about the scars on the girl's back. And though she had told them that the girl had most likely been tutored by Hecketty, she had not told them what that probably meant. So, a part of her reasoned that the other teachers had a right to be concerned, and a little doubtful, but the other, more dominant part of her, the part that was exhausted and still wanted to flee to the sanctuary of her room, was in absolutely no mood to deal with their scepticism. She just wanted them to believe her, no questions asked, so she could return to the girl and find out whether her suspicions were correct.

'It all seems a bit farfetched to me'. Davina flinched, instantly wishing she had refrained from speaking as Miss Hardbroom shot her a death stare. The tension in the room was rising dramatically, and Davina cast a longing glance at her cupboard. She would have fled there long ago, if not for the fact that Constance was standing in front of it.

'I don't understand why you're finding this so hard to believe! Agatha wants revenge on this school. So does Hecketty Broomhead – '

'But why Constance? Don't get me wrong, none of us doubt Agatha's motives, but why has Broomhead suddenly gone from wanting to close this school down to wanting revenge? Hasn't that escalated a bit quickly?' Imogen tried to use her most soothing voice, but she could tell that it was having very little effect on the witch. Constance was clearly hiding something, and none of the teachers had missed the tell-tale signs of recent tears on the deputy's pale face.

Constance ground her teeth. 'Do I really need to sit down and explain her motives? We humiliated her. We succeeded where she failed. That is something she cannot forgive. She has this…obsession with perfection, and therefore failure. It's been a long time since anyone ever openly defied her, much less triumphed against her. In her eyes she is the model witch; emotionless, powerful, stern, she never fails! And now an entire school, not just one person, has made mockery of her. Do I need to continue?'

Davina cringed. It had been a long time since she had heard Constance sound so angry. Or so scared. And she knew that what she was about to say would not help matters. 'Is that all? All she wants is revenge? Nothing else?'

_Me. She wants me. And she wants Mildred. _Constance shook her head. 'I don't know. Mildred said that the girl was trying to warn her that she and I specifically have to be careful. Why I can't explain'. _Because I am the only person, excluding this girl, to have ever escaped her clutches. And Mildred is Mildred; a girl with more spirit and heart than Hecketty could ever dream of. A heroine. Hecketty must have felt that when she first came here. _

The two teachers glanced at one another. They knew that Constance was leaving something out. But what could they do? They knew from experience that pushing the potions mistress would get them nowhere.

Amelia removed her glasses with a sigh, polishing them absentmindedly on her frilly blouse before replacing them. She looked over the top of the cat-eye frames at her deputy. 'What would you suggest we do, Constance?'

Constance breathed a sigh of relief. 'We must put defences up around the school. Let no one in and no one out. No more daily trips to Cosy's. No more herb picking at dawn. No more gruelling runs up the mountain where the girls could potentially fall behind and be picked up by any unpleasant witches'.

Imogen rolled her eyes at this; _of course she had to throw that in_. Constance continued as if she hadn't noticed. 'We have an advantage, but it won't last long. Agatha knows that the girl managed to get here, so it stands to reason that she will soon inform Hecketty Broomhead. We need to act while we have the upper hand, however slight it might seem'.

Amelia sighed again and picked up the letter that had been lying open in her lap, preparing to drop a bombshell into the already highly strung room. The three teacher's eyes were immediately drawn to the crisp white paper, as if they knew it could mean little good. 'We may have a slight problem there. It seems that when the post last arrived I…neglected to notice this letter. It seems rather important'. She felt extremely stupid and very guilty. Of course the day she happened to notice the letter was the very day they needed to place tighter security around the school. Sometimes she wished that she did have an organised filing system. She had been so on edge after checking and rechecking the locks around the school that she had sat down and started absentmindedly sorting through a pile of unopened letters on her desk. She had read and reread the letter in her hands so many times that she almost knew it by heart.

Constance strode over and took the letter from the headmistress, scanning it quickly. She was halfway down the page when she was forced to back track and begin again.

_Dear Miss Cackle,_

_I am writing to inform you that I must speak with you on a matter of some delicacy concerning one of your students. Would 12 o'clock on the 17__th__ be appropriate? I will be passing through your area around that time, and as this is a matter of importance and urgency, this date would be convenient for those involved. _

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Dr Jason Sage_

By the time she had read it through several times, the level of concern and trepidation she felt had risen considerably. The letter had been written in some haste, as the writing, though neat, bore signs of the urgency described in the letter. It was rather awkwardly written, as if the man had been unsure how to find the right words. The overall feeling she got from the letter was not a good one.

Constance handed the letter over to Imogen and cast an incredulous glance at Amelia. It was clear that the headmistress was just as perplexed by the letter as her deputy. Amelia was watching her with some concern, as if she expected her to explode at any minute. After glancing at the clock on the wall, Constance understood why. It half past twelve in the morning. It was already the 17th. They had less than twelve hours before this doctor turned up. Constance closed her eyes and prayed for the strength to not – what was the saying? 'Lose it'. _Why does everything half to happen at the same time?_

Imogen was less restrained. 'Oh hell! As if we didn't have enough on our plates, something like this has to happen!'

'What do you suggest we do, headmistress?' asked Davina, who had been busy reading the letter over Imogen's shoulder.

'Let it play out. If this is as urgent as he says, then we can hardly refuse. As for the rest, we do what Constance said. We prepare. Plus, I think we ought to warn the girls, just so they don't do anything…' Amelia searched for the right word.

'Foolish, Miss Cackle?' Constance was standing by the mantelpiece, leaning against it with one hand, eyes still closed. She sounded more exhausted than angry.

'What about this girl though?' Imogen couldn't help feeling that they'd missed a rather important element. 'She can't exactly stay in the infirmary, and her presence will have to be explained to the girls. Unless you think we should tell them the truth?'

'Absolutely not'. Constance was sharper than she intended to be, but she wanted to make sure there was no room for argument. 'Explaining that the school is in danger is one thing, but it would be very foolish to say that we are going to extreme measures to protect the school on the word of an unknown witch and a student that many would say has a very fanciful imagination. I can think of at least one or two students that would disregard our warnings and get themselves into trouble if they found out'. Constance hesitated but then pressed forward, realising that she had to give some reason for her caution. 'If there is one thing I have learned, it's that Hecketty Broomhead does not do anything without motive. There must be a specific reason she decided to tutor this girl. Perhaps her magic is powerful; perhaps she has an unusual gift. Whatever the reason, we can't let Hecketty get her hands on her again'. _Even if it's just for her sake. _Constance knew perfectly well what would happen to the girl if she fell back into Hecketty's grasp. It wasn't a nice thought. She opened her eyes and folded her arms over her chest, ignoring the curious gazes her colleagues. 'If I may make a suggestion, Miss Cackle? Introduce her as a new girl. Put her under Mildred's care, you could say that she did so well with Enid that you think she is the perfect choice. Mildred knows the truth about her, and as the girl seems to know who Mildred is, it may be prudent to keep them together'.

Amelia nodded, 'you may be right Constance. Though, I think we should advise Mildred to keep her friends in the dark, at least for the time being'.

Davina stood. 'Do you want me to search for some spare uniforms Miss Cackle?' the chanting teacher felt a little useless and wanted to do something to be helpful.

'Of course dear, that would be very helpful'. Amelia watched Davina float out the door with a small smile on her face before turning to the P.E. teacher. 'Imogen dear, would you mind checking the second year dormitory for any spare rooms? I can't remember off the top of my head'.

A long silence followed Imogen's departure. Amelia picked up the letter and reread it once more, though her mind was not on the words at all. Her mind was on her deputy. She wished, more than anything at that moment, that Constance would allow her walls to fall, if only for long enough to let the headmistress comfort her. She desperately wanted to know what Constance was neglecting to tell them, desperately wanted to know why her sculptured cheekbones still glistened with tears. She wished that Constance would allow her to be a friend for her.

Amelia stood, unsure of what she was intending, when Constance took a step back, arms folded over her chest protectively. She had sensed Amelia's train of thought. She had been trying not to intrude, but some of the words had slipped past the walls in her mind. It wasn't that she wished to shun the older woman' s offers of friendship, it was more that she had no desire to talk about her past. Not while there was a high risk that it would bring her to tears, especially in her current emotional state. Clearing her throat, and looking a little like a dear caught in the headlights, Constance said hastily, 'Miss Cackle, I think I should go check on Mildred. The girl may have awoken. If she has, I will inform her of the plan and try to find out a little more about what is going on'. Her tone had returned to a more formal and business like voice, in an attempt to hide the discomfort she felt.

She watched as Amelia's face clouded with a mixture of sadness and disappointment. The headmistress nodded however and Constance dematerialised hastily before she could change her mind. Amelia sighed heavily and sat back down, shaking her head slightly. Sometimes she wondered if what the girls suspected was true, whether Constance could actually read peoples thoughts, or whether her feelings were really that clear on her face.

* * *

Mildred sat on Hope's bed, watching as the other girl sniffed wearily at the steaming cup of hot chocolate in her hands. Hope narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the brownish liquid and shot a glance at Mildred. 'What is it?'

She couldn't help it. Her jaw dropped and her eyebrows shot high up her forehead. She could tell just by the perplexed expression on Hope's face that she wasn't kidding. And there were so many things wrong with those three words that it brought all her anger at Hecketty Broomhead rushing back with the force of a tidal wave. _Of course she doesn't know what it is, if she was raised by Broomhead and that woman was the one who inflicted those scars on her back, of course she's never had hot chocolate. _

Mildred shook herself mentally, becoming aware that her mouth was still hanging open. Hope was frowning at her and her expression gave the impression that she was vaguely worried for her sanity. Mildred shut her mouth with a snap. 'It's hot chocolate. You'll like it, trust me'.

Hope studied Mildred's face for a moment, clearly still slightly suspicious. She turned her attention back to the hot chocolate and sipped it experimentally. Her eyes lit up in pleasure as the hot chocolate slid down her throat and her face split in a wide grin. It was the first real smile Mildred had seen from her, and the change was startling. Her stern beauty was suddenly swept away, replaced by a look of pure delight that made her youthful lovely face glow. For some reason, the change seemed very familiar to Mildred, though she couldn't quite place why.

A few seconds later Hope lowered the now empty cup and smiled at Mildred. There was a hot chocolate moustache on her top lip. Mildred lost it. The high strung emotions, the tensions, the shock, all of it bubbled to the surface and burst out of her in the form of hysterical laughter. Hope stared at her in confusion, and Mildred gestured wildly, trying to smother her laugher.

Hope wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She stared at the smudge of hot chocolate for a moment and then looked back at Mildred. Mildred's face was contorted into a scrunched expression and she was beginning to turn blue from the effort of containing her laughter.

Hope exploded into a fit of giggles. At the sound, all efforts to contain her laughter failed and Mildred fell back onto the bed, clutching her stomach, legs flailing in the air above her. Hope bent double and slid off the bed, shaking with silent laughter.

Tears were streaming down Mildred's face by the time she managed to stop. She lay on her back breathing heavily, grinning widely, feeling light headed. After all the tension and worry and fear, it felt good laughing. She sat up, and her smile slowly slipped from her face. Hope was lying flat on her back, hands still pressed to her stomach, her dark hair fanned around her head. But she wasn't smiling. Her eyes were fixed on the roof and she was frowning slightly. Twin tear tracks leaked out from the corners of her eyes and disappeared into her hair. Somehow, Mildred doubted that they were tears of laughter.

Mildred slid off the bed slowly, unsure what to do. It was such a sudden change that she was completely unprepared for how to help. _I don't even know her. Maybe she doesn't want me to help._ After a brief inner struggle, Mildred's desire to help won out over her other concerns and she lay down beside Hope. She didn't say anything, just lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, waiting.

The silence between them stretched on until Mildred wondered whether she would have to break it herself. Then Hope stirred. It was a small movement, so small that if Mildred hadn't been lying so close she wouldn't have noticed. A ripple seemed to run through the other girl's body as she gave her shoulders a tiny shake. 'Thanks, Mildred'. It was a mere whisper of a sound, and Mildred could feel her ears straining to catch more.

Mildred rolled onto her side, propping her head up with her elbow so she could look at Hope properly. The girl had not taken her eyes off the ceiling. Mildred touched her hand lightly. 'For what?' As far as she was concerned, she had done very little.

A small sad smile curved Hope's lips. 'I've known you for less than half an hour, and you've already shown me two things I've never experienced before'.

'Two things?' the words slipped out before she could stop herself. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to hear the answer.

Hope finally turned her head to look at her. 'Hot chocolate…and laughter. Before today I never had any reason to laugh'. And she smiled, a real smile, not a sad one, the same transforming smile that made her look almost like a different person.

Mildred did her best to smile back, though inside she was absolutely horrified. Hot chocolate was one thing, but laughter? It was the third greatest gift in the world! Without quite realising it, the hand that had been lightly resting on Hope's had suddenly tightened, lacing their fingers together. At that moment, Mildred swore to herself that as long as the girl was still at Cackle's, she would try her upmost hardest to make her laugh as often as possible. She didn't say that though. All she said was, 'you shouldn't really thank me for the hot chocolate; it was Miss Bat's idea'.

Hope raised an eyebrow, 'Miss Bat?' she sounded amused.

Mildred grinned. 'She's a bit…odd. Batty'.

'You know, Mistress Broomhead hates Bats'. Hope smiled widely, her eyes sparkling. 'I'm sure I'll love her!'

Standing, Mildred extended a hand to help Hope up. The other witch took it without any hesitation and Mildred pulled her up. They both plonked down onto the bed again. 'I have bats. There all over the school. There really quite nice'. Mildred knew subconsciously that she was avoiding the elephant in the room. She still had yet to ask exactly what Hope was doing there, or how she knew Mildred and why she had heard her voice in her head.

As if reading her mind, Hope sighed heavily. 'I will tell you what's going on, I promise, but it's a story I only want to tell once, and Constance – Miss Hardbroom – needs to hear it too. I'm hardly going to tell you that you have to be careful because Agatha Cackle and Mistress Broomhead want to take down the school and that they have their sights on you and then not explain what's going on'.

Mildred couldn't help but stare. It was as if Hope had literally just read her mind. She opened her mouth, suddenly determined to ask about it, when Miss Hardbroom materialised next to them. Mildred, who with everything that was going on had almost forgotten about Miss Hardbroom, shrieked, overbalanced and fell onto the floor with a thump. Hope's reaction was far less amusing. Her entire body went stiff as a board and she snapped her head around to stare at Miss Hardbroom with eyes that did not see. Her hands were flung up in front of her, crossed over her chest, as if she was preparing to ward something off. Her palms crackled with gold sparks.

Constance, whose mind had been lingering on her rather awkward conversation with Amelia, started back in surprise, momentarily shocked by the snarl of anger on Hope's face, and then cursed herself. Of course the girl would immediately think that she was someone else. She should have known better than to materialise in the room, when the only other person the girl could possible know that could do that was the very woman she was running from.

Mildred scrambled upright, recognising immediately what was going on, and grabbed Hope's arm forcefully. 'Hope!' Hope blinked and seemed to snap out of it. She lowered her arms slowly, her expression apologetic yet still wary. Her eyes raked Constance from head to toe, mentally noting down how Hecketty had obviously influenced her. Constance found herself doing the same, noting the girl's ramrod straight posture and the almost imperceptible mental barrier around her mind. She winced inwardly at Hope's name. She could imagine what the girl must have gone through under Hecketty's iron grip with a name like that. Hecketty hated names like that – she would have called them frivolous and unbecoming to a respectable and powerful witch.

Mildred watched the exchange with some worry. She kept her hand on Hope's arm, acutely aware of the tension in the girl's body. She also noticed that her face had closed again, her expression blank. Miss Hardbroom was standing in her trademark position, arms folded tightly across her chest, her expression carefully neutral. Mildred was starting to realise that that stance was more defensive than threatening. And, in some ways, Hope was a threat to Miss Hardbroom. She was a link to her past, a girl with more knowledge about the deputy than possible anyone in the world, aside from Hecketty herself. Of course HB would find that threatening.

Hope looked down at the hand resting on her arm and then back up at Mildred. A smile flashed briefly across her face, lifting the mask again. Then she looked back at Constance. 'I need to talk to you'.

Constance nodded slowly. She took two steps back and folded herself gracefully into a chair. 'I believe you do. If you feel up to it that is'. Usually, Constance probably wouldn't have added this last sentence, but she recognised that the girl had been through a lot and might not be feeling up to it.

'I think its best we get this over with', said Hope wryly. Constance smiled slightly at this, immensely relieved that she didn't have to wait to find out what was going on. She was not a very patient woman. Constance turned her gaze to Mildred and raised her eyebrows, clearly inquiring about whether she was going to stay. 'I promised Mildred that I would tell her what was going on. She's in danger here as well'. Hope spoke firmly, yet there was a question there was well.

Constance dipped her head slightly. For Mildred to have the best chance at survival, she needed to have some idea of what she was up against.

Hope hesitated. Now that she was actually about to explain what was going on, she felt a little…nervous. The similarities between Miss Hardbroom and Mistress Broomhead were setting her teeth on edge. She could sense however, that Miss Hardbroom was a generally good person, who like her had been exposed to far too much hardship at a young age, and had simply hardened over time. It was comforting to know that one could escape Hecketty's grasp – at least in some ways. If she could just focus on telling the story, not the words themselves, this would be over far sooner than it would otherwise. Hope rolled her shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension in her muscles, and began.

'It's a very long story, how this all came to happen. I don't even know the details of how it began, really. I was…given to Hecketty Broomhead when I was very young, a baby I think, because I don't remember any other upbringing'. She paused and looked at Constance. Constance was steeling herself for a rather gruesome story. 'You've probably guessed that there is something a little…different about me, haven't you?'

Though that could have been referring to many different things, Constance understood the meaning behind the words. 'If you mean that I guessed you must be a very powerful witch, or have some sort of special power, then yes. Mistress Broomhead never apprenticed ordinary witches – and with the exception of you and me she never… raised any of them'. Constance winced inwardly, _raised really isn't the word. _

Hope took a deep breath and plunged onwards. 'I'm psychic'.

For a brief second Mildred witnessed the mask slip from Constance's face and saw a flash of astonishment and something like disbelief before Constance managed to school her features once more. Mildred said, 'What's a psychic?'

Hope turned her attention to her. 'There are two types of psychics, generally speaking. There is the type that can see glimpses of the future – they're generally referred to as Seers. Usually, those visions occur in dreams. The dreams – or visions – revolve around the Seer themselves and the people they meet, are going to meet, or may meet. They can change; they depend on the choices that people make. The other type of psychic is usually called a telepath. They can talk to people inside their minds; hear people's thoughts, read people's minds and theoretically they can also manipulate people's minds to an extent. Some telepaths can't do all of those things and some can. Most of them can also shield their minds and other peoples, and some can also emit strong telepathic blasts'. Hope took a deep breath; she'd barely paused for breath.

Mildred frowned slightly, finding it difficult to process all the information at once. 'So… which one are you?' she guessed, just from when she had heard Hope's voice in her mind, that Hope was a telepath.

Hope hesitated for a brief second before she said, 'I'm a telepath'. The hesitation was so brief that Mildred didn't notice. But Constance did.

'So can you do all of those things?' Mildred also suspected that Miss Hardbroom was probably a telepath as well, seeing as she always seemed to know exactly what was going on in the school.

'Well that's the thing; I don't know yet'. Hope sighed and massaged her temples. This was starting to get complicated. 'Up until around three months ago, I didn't even know I was a telepath. After the…incident with you', here Hope turned her attention back to Constance, 'where you…left unexpectedly, Hecketty decided that she needed to keep me on a much shorter leash'.

Constance was very glad that Hope was avoiding what had actually happened with her, though it was obvious that she knew all the details. She felt her eyebrows go up at the idea that Hecketty could have anyone on a shorter leash. There was practically no leash to start with.

'Anyway, she kept a block on my mind to prevent me from using my telepathy without her permission. She was teaching me how to use it, and then preventing me from remembering afterwards. I don't know exactly what she intended to do with me afterwards; I assumed she intended to make sure I was completely under her influence before she let me use it fully'. That wasn't exactly the truth. Hope did know what Hecketty had intended to do, but she had no intention of giving Mildred nightmares. Constance could guess - if she didn't have some idea already.

'So what happened?' asked Mildred.

Hope smiled slightly. 'Ironically, it's thanks to Hecketty that I discovered it. She was teaching me how to materialise'. Here she hesitated. She wasn't sure whether she needed to go into the details of what that had involved. She glanced at Constance out of the corner of her eye, silently asking her opinion. Constance shook her head ever so slightly, briefly projecting her thoughts so that Hope would hear them. _We really don't need to tell Mildred more than she needs to know. Let's not give the girl nightmares. _

Hope continued as if nothing had happened. 'When I managed to successfully materialise, it was as if I... it's hard to explain – it was almost as if I left the barriers behind in the other room. One moment I was in some sort of submissive daze, the next the world was alive with a sharp clarity. I could hear Hecketty's thoughts and I could hear the thoughts of the mail man down the street. I knew that I had had a barrier around my mind moments before. I remembered Hecketty teaching me how to use it and how to hide it. So I did, I hid the fact that I had control of my telepathy. I pretended to be as submissive as I had been'.

Mildred frowned. 'But didn't she know? I mean, couldn't she feel that you weren't under her control anymore?'

'Hecketty herself wasn't actually psychic. There are spells and charms that involve blocks and memory charms. She would have had to check them manually to know whether they were still there, and once I shielded my mind she couldn't. She taught me how to use my powers mainly through books about them. What you have to realise is that Hecketty's greatest flaw is the belief that everything she does is perfect. She's vain. She could never imagine that I might break through the barrier of my own accord'.

_That's true, _mused Constance. _If Hecketty has one weakness at all, it is over confidence in her own abilities. _

Hope took a moment to gather her thoughts. 'As I said, that was about three months ago. I spent the next few weeks planning to get away. I needed to get as far away from Hecketty as possible, to somewhere she couldn't find me. I worked hard to develop my magic. My aim was to find somewhere unpopulated. I was thinking of going to the Scottish highlands. You see, I feared that if Hecketty did find me she would be able take me back because she was my legal guardian'.

'She wasn't though, was she?' Constance had once thought that, and it had opened up a whole lot of possibilities when she had discovered it was a lie.

Hope shook her head. 'I never dared to look into Hecketty's mind. Though she wasn't psychic, I assumed she had ways of shielding herself. I only found out that she wasn't my legal guardian when Agatha came into the picture, which was about a week ago'. Hope's brow furrowed as she struggled to remember exactly what had happened during her last days as Hecketty's 'apprentice'. It had been such a whirl wind of fear, hope and planning and rushes of adrenaline that her memory was somewhat clouded. 'I don't know how she and Hecketty made contact. The day it happened, Hecketty locked me in my room and spent the entire day plotting with Agatha. Of course, I listened to the whole conversation through Agatha, who probably had absolutely no idea what a mind shield was - never mind how to use it. They discussed me briefly; they talked about using me to attack the school while everyone was asleep. That was when Hecketty mentioned that she was not my legal guardian, though she didn't say how she got her hands on me. Knowing her, it probably wasn't pleasant. I heard them talking about their plans for the school, what they intended to do to you two, and I made up my mind to stop them – and to warn you'.

'So what do they actually want with us?' asked Mildred. Though she had been listening intently to Hope's story, she had noticed that she hadn't actually said that they wanted.

Hope sighed. 'In all honesty, I don't really understand what Hecketty wants with you. Agatha wants revenge because you've spoiled her plans before. From what I could gather from their conversation, and the ones that followed over the next couple of days, Hecketty holds some sort of personal grudge against you, though I have no idea what it is. As for you…' she hesitated as she looked at Miss Hardbroom. She was beginning to wish that the older woman was not so good at keeping her emotions behind a blank mask. It was harder to judge what she could say and what she couldn't.

Constance raised an eyebrow. 'They want me dead, yes?'

Hope pinched the bridge of her nose. She had never been around so many people at once, and she could hear the distant dreams of every student in the school, even though she tried to block them out. She had read that dreams were harder to block than thoughts, because no one could control their dreams. It was giving her a headache. 'To put it bluntly'.

Constance nodded - a sharp birdlike motion of her head. It was what she had expected. 'Very well then, it certainly helps to have an idea of what is coming'.

Mildred yawned abruptly. She had been so caught up in the rapidly unfolding events that she hadn't really noticed how exhausted she was. 'What now, Miss Hardbroom?'

Constance stood, suddenly brisk. 'Now, you go to bed Mildred, it's far too late for you to be up. I shall inform Miss Cackle of what we should expect. I take it that Coldstone and Bindweed are working for Agatha still?'

Hope stood, diminishing the height difference somewhat. She didn't like being looked down upon, though Constance could still do that even when she was standing. It made her feel vulnerable, like she was some sort of prey. 'Yes. They didn't want to have anything to do with Agatha after her last failure, but they're too terrified of Hecketty to back down now'.

'Hmm. Well, I believe there is a spare room in the second year wing. Perhaps you would be kind enough to show Hope where she will sleep tonight Mildred'. Constance walked towards the door. She glanced back over her shoulder at them. 'Oh, and Hope, Miss Cackle has decided that you are to be introduced as a new girl tomorrow. We think it's best if the rest of the school doesn't know about you, so to speak. You will be placed under Mildred's care. I believe that Miss Bat has found some spare uniform, which should be in your room. We would appreciate it if you don't tell your friends what is going on, Mildred'.

'So you're not going to tell them anything? Shouldn't they be warned?' asked Mildred.

Constance had to refrain from rolling her eyes in exasperation. 'Of course we're going to warn them Mildred. We're also going to place barriers around the school. I just mean that it would probably be best if Hope's… connection to Hecketty is kept in the dark'. Constance hesitated. Despite how much she seriously just wanted to retreat inside herself, she did know that Hope had been through a rough experience and that Mildred was probably absolutely terrified. She felt that she should say something reassuring. But just because she had let Mildred see past her walls for a moment and that Hope shared a… unfortunate connection to her did not mean that she had suddenly become good at comforting people or expressing her feelings. 'Do try and get some sleep. You might need it'. She winced inwardly at the rather bad attempt. Feeling extremely awkward, Constance folded her arms over her chest and vanished.

Mildred stared at the spot Miss Hardbroom had been mere seconds before. She wasn't sure why she felt so surprised. She had seen a completely different side to Miss Hardbroom, but that didn't mean she was going to suddenly change. Once, she might have put it down to Miss Hardbroom being cold and, well, being _HB, _but now she recognised that it Constance was really just beating a retreat. It was as if the wall Constance kept around her had become slightly transparent, allowing Mildred to see some of the true meanings behind her actions.

She turned suddenly, pushing her musings away to think about later. Hope was standing behind her still, hugging her arms to her body. Her gaze was distant, as if she wasn't really aware of where she was. Mildred touched her lightly on her arm. 'Hope?'

Hope started and blinked, her eyes coming back into focus. 'Hmm? Sorry, did you say something?'

Mildred smiled gently. 'No, but I think we should go to bed. Come on, I'll show you where your room is'. Hope snatched her wet cloak off the bed before following Mildred out of the room.

* * *

Hope sat on the thin mattress of her bed, head cocked slightly as she listened to Mildred's retreating footsteps. There was a candle by her bedside and a spare uniform was hanging on a coat rack on her wardrobe. The shutters of her window were firmly closed. When she could no longer hear Mildred, she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to stretch out. Once she was sure that Mildred was not going to get out of bed to talk to her, and that Constance was busy talking to Amelia, she stood and locked the door. Then she raised her hand and pointed it at her candle. The candle flame sparked and spluttered and detached itself from the wick. It rose above her head and grew larger, until it cast the entire room in a soft orange glow.

Hope turned back to the bed and spread her cloak over it. The still wet material dried at her touch. The cloak was worn and a little faded, fraying around the bottom. In the centre of the cloak, where the small of her back would rest when she had it on, was a roughly sewed on pocket. Hope sat down on the bed and reached into it. She withdrew a tattered leather bound book, tied closed by a piece of string. She opened it and flicked through the pages, skimming over detailed drawings. When she came to a blank page, she pulled a led pencil out from the binding and began to sketch what she had seen when she was unconscious. She had found not long ago that she had a natural drawing talent, and had soon discovered that it was the best way of keeping track of her dreams.

A little later, she laid down her pencil and gazed at the three pictures she had drawn. The first was a detailed sketch of a girl with a haughty nose. The girl's expression was unnaturally blank. Her eyes were staring straight ahead. There was a strange look in the girl's eyes. They brewed with a flaming vicious anger that did not match her expression. And behind the anger, there was a look of absolute terror.

The second sketch was of a man with a strong, open face and intelligent eyes. He was smiling, and he had a stethoscope slung around his neck.

Hope stared at the third picture, swallowing hard. The picture depicted Constance lying on her side on the cobble stones, facing away. A dark stain was spreading from underneath her over the ground.

With a snarl - more of desperation than anger - Hope threw the notebook onto the bed and buried her face in her hands, entwining her hands tightly in her dark hair in an effort to steady herself. She felt sick. 'What have I started?'

* * *

_**So what do you think? Please let me know! What do you think of Hope so far? What do you think is happening in the last scene?**_

_**Constructive criticism is welcome as always! Please review!**_

_**Morgana**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**finally I finished the next chapter! thanks to those who reviewed, the encouragement really helped!**_

_**so, I think that there is less happening in this chapter... its not as suspenseful as the last...I think. You'll have to review and tell me *nudge nudge* :P**_

_**so anyway, I hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

_**Chapter 4**_

To Mildred's surprise, she woke up on time the next morning. The excitement of the previous night had sent her into a deep sleep the moment her head had hit the pillow. She woke refreshed, feeling for once that she had actually had enough sleep.

She dressed slowly, her mind on the events of last night, on her rescue, on Hope and on Miss Hardbroom's unexpected breakdown. She knew that she would never see the formidable form mistress the same way again. Her mind drifted to the scars on Hope's back. She'd dreamt about them. In her dream, the scars had been words, telling of a life full of pain and anguish and loneliness. The moment she had woken up, she had vowed out loud that she would be a good friend to Hope. _Before today I never had any reason to laugh. _She shuddered.

She had also promised herself that no matter how hard it seemed, she would make an extra effort to excel in her studies, especially potions, and that she would make as little trouble as possible. Miss Hardbroom had obviously had enough hardship in her life without Mildred making it any more difficult. She knew now why HB never wore anything but the black dresses that concealed her skin. She wondered whether the scars were just on the deputy's back, or whether the covered her arms as well. She remembered the time down at Rowenwebb's riverside retreat, how shocked they had been, how Enid had jokingly said, 'She's got legs!'

It was only when she was sitting on her bed, having just finished plaiting her hair, when she wondered about Hope. Was she meant to wake her? Or would Miss Hardbroom? If she did try to wake her, there was a good chance her friends would see her, and Hope wasn't meant to be at the school yet, much less actually know Mildred.

She chewed her plait thoughtfully for a moment, wondering what to do. Then she remembered what Hope had said about being psychic, how she could hear other people's thoughts, and how she could speak to them in their minds. So, logically, if Mildred projected her thoughts, then Hope should hear her. The only problem was that Mildred had no idea how to project her thoughts.

Perhaps if she imagined that she was somewhere else, if she pictured Hope in front of her, maybe then she could talk to her. Mildred closed her eyes, concentrated, and pictured herself on a barren wasteland. She imagined that Hope was standing on the other side, that a million miles separated them. In her imagination, she shouted Hope's name, and the wind carried her voice over the cracked ground and up into the sky. She opened her eyes and sat still, waiting to see if it had worked. Almost immediately, she heard Hope's voice. _'There really is no need to shout Mildred; I would have heard you perfectly well'. _Hope sounded amused rather than irritated.

Mildred had to take a moment to gather her thoughts before she spoke again. It was an odd feeling, having someone else in your mind. When Hope spoke, it was as if a thought had just popped up in her mind, it just didn't sound like her voice. Not only that, but Mildred suddenly found that she could also feel some of Hope's emotions. She could feel that Hope was exhausted, and had the impression that she had actually been up for a while. _'You don't need to say anything, Mildred. Stop trying so hard. Relax. Think what you want to say'._

Mildred nodded, though she knew that Hope could not see her, and allowed herself to relax. Then she said, _'sorry. Did I wake you?' _it was easier than she had imagined, as long as she didn't think about it. Thinking about the way it worked gave her a slight headache.

She heard Hope laugh. _'Mildred, I woke up hours ago. I'm used to waking far earlier than you. Hecketty…' _there was a distinct pause. '_Never mind about Hecketty. What was it you wanted?'_

That was the other strange thing about this way of communicating. Though Hope had not actually said what Hecketty had said or done, Mildred felt a flash of what she had intended to say. She had the impression of exhaustion, fear about sleeping in, and saw a brief flash of a dark room, just before dawn. Mildred shoved this to the back of her mind to think about later. '_I was just wondering whether you needed to be woken up or something'._

'_Constance – Miss Hardbroom, said that she was going to come and fetch me when she was going to introduce me to the class. I don't know your friends, do you think they'll suspect something?' _

'_It depends really. They'll probably be a bit distracted; Miss Cackle is planning to tell everyone about Agatha and Hecketty at assembly this morning. Whether or not they join the dots…' _Mildred was about to continue when there was a knock on her door. 'Millie! Are you up yet?' it was Maud. Mildred suddenly realised how hard this day was going to be, trying to hide what had happened the night before from her friends.

Before she could say anything, Hope spoke. '_You had better go. I'll see you in class. And remember, if you need to contact me, just talk. The yelling is not necessary'._ The strange connection she had had with Hope abruptly severed, leaving Mildred feeling strangely empty.

She didn't have time to dwell on the strange feeling however, because the door abruptly burst open. Maud and Enid stood in the door way, smiling, and looking very sleepy. 'You're up early Millie!' said Maud, seeing with some surprise that Mildred was fully dressed. Even her hair was done.

Mildred stood, mentally preparing herself for the day, and smiled at her friends. 'I actually slept well'.

Enid gave Mildred an apprising look. It was true; Mildred actually looked like she had had a decent night's sleep, which was a little odd considering that gale that had kept the entire school up. Enid shrugged, putting the minor fact out of her mind. 'Come on, I'm starved!'

* * *

Though Constance hated to admit it, even to herself, she was very, very tired. After updating Amelia with the current situation, albeit leaving out a few details, she'd spent the remainder of the night erecting wards around the school. She had of course kept in mind that they were expecting this doctor around 12 o'clock, so she made sure the wards could be removed at any moment. The only people who could pass in and out of the wards were she and the other teachers. She had put a lot of effort into it, and had subsequently found her strength, both physical and magical, had depleted greatly. She hadn't slept either, fearing that the events of the night would trigger memories that she had no wish to revisit.

She stood straight and impassive as the girls sang the school song, her mind drifting and fuzzy. Today, Amelia was going to inform the school of the impending danger. Some of the students would probably appreciate the danger, if they remembered how close the school had come to falling under Agatha's control. Ironically, many of the students would probably believe that most of the danger came from Agatha. Very few had any idea what Hecketty was really like.

Her body moved robotically as the school song ended, taking her to the chair she usually sat in. Today was going to be one of _those _days. One of those days where she could barely keep her temper at the tiniest mistake made by one of her students. One of those days where her exhaustion turned her students against her.

Constance barely registered it when Amelia started to talk to the students. Miss Cackle stood at the front of the wooden platform, gazing down at her girls with a mixture of affection and seriousness. The girls, seeing the seriousness on their headmistresses face, immediately struggled to focus more intently on what she was saying. '…I am afraid that the school is once more the focus of plot engineered by my sister Agatha'.

A ripple of whispers ran through the student body. When they quietened down, Amelia continued. 'This time however, the school faces a double threat; Hecketty Broomhead, who some of you may remember, has teamed up with my sister to bring down the school'.

There was a much louder murmur this time. Those of the students who could remember Mistress Broomhead stared at Miss Cackle, fear clearly written on their faces. Constance observed Mildred doing her best to look shocked, though the fear on her face was probably completely honest. Miss Cackle continued once more. 'Miss Hardbroom has placed some very powerful wards around the school. However, security must be tightened around the school from now on, at least until the danger has passed. There will be no more herb picking, no more out of school trips and no more trips to Cosy's. What you must all understand is that this is a very real danger we are all in, therefore I will ask all of you to be extra careful and responsible. What we tell you to do must be done without any argument or hesitation…I do not wish to scare you, but your very lives may depend on you listening to what we say'.

At the conclusion of the assembly, Constance watched the girls leave the hall. Their emotions assaulted her senses; fear, unease, disbelief. Many clearly believed that the teachers were over reacting. She tightened the defences around her mind and the voices died down to a faint hum. She sighed heavily; it was as good as she could have expected. She would just have to keep an eye on them, and hope that they were smart enough to head Amelia's warning.

* * *

Maud couldn't help but stare at the girl standing at the front of the class. It had come as something of a surprise when they had entered the classroom to find Miss Hardbroom standing at the front of the room, accompanied by a girl none of them had ever seen before, and announced that the class would now be joined by a new member. When Enid had joined the class, the class had at least had some warning. To add to that, she had joined at the start of the term, not half way through it.

Despite her desire to not make the girl feel uncomfortable, it was nearly impossible not to stare. Looking at her, Maud was struck by two things simultaneously. The first was her size. She was very tall, though not gigantic. Then again, she was probably no taller than Mildred. The difference was the way they stood. While Mildred slouched over, unconsciously playing down her height, the girl stood completely straight, as if her spine had been replaced by an iron rod. Her height was also emphasised by how thin she was – she looked a little malnourished in Maud's opinion.

The second thing she noticed was that the girl was very beautiful, if a little too pale, as if she didn't get out much. She had high, prominent cheek bones, a slightly pointed nose, and a fine jaw line. Her bright blue eyes were further accented by long dark lashes. She had full red lips and a long, swan-like neck. Her dark brown hair was braided loosely, falling down to her ribs. She was the kind of person of whom it would be very easy to be jealous.

Enid, sitting next to Maud, observed all of this as well, though she was more interested in the girl's demeanour. She understood what it felt like to be a new girl, to have every eye in the class fixed on you. While Enid had stood with her head slightly bowed, gazing sullenly at the floor to express her distaste with being at a new school, the girl stood completely straight, her head held high and her eyes fixed on a point at the back of the class room. Her expression was blank, unreadable, and Enid was usually very good at reading people. The other thing that interested her was the girl's immaculate appearance. Though her uniform was obviously second hand, it was extremely neat, and her hair, though braided loosely so that it didn't pull on her scalp, had not a hair out of place. She couldn't help wondering how long the girl had spent on her appearance, or whether she had used some sort of spell.

'Class', Miss Hardbroom's stern voice drew the two friends back to the present, 'this is Hope. She will be joining you in your classes from now on, and I expect you to make her feel welcome'. Constance turned her gaze to Mildred, praying that the girl was a suitably good actress. 'Mildred, Miss Cackle has decided that you are to show Hope around the school. She expects you to take care of her'.

Mildred did her best to look surprised, though she had the feeling that she looked more nervous than anything. 'Ruby, if you wouldn't mind moving next to Jadu, Hope can sit next to Mildred'.

Ruby gathered her things and slid into place next to her friend, raising her eyebrows at her to express her surprise. This all seemed a little… sudden. And, though Mildred did look nervous, she had only seemed mildly surprised. There was something fishy going on.

For the first time during the proceedings, Hope's eyes moved from their place on the wall. Though Ruby herself didn't notice, Maud and Enid witnessed the girl's eyes move to land on Ruby. Her expression remained unreadable however, and a moment later the girl was looking at HB instead. Constance handed Hope a copy of the Witches Code and then nodded at the spare seat beside Mildred. Followed by every eye in the room, Hope crossed to her seat with an almost unnatural grace, sliding into the chair without meeting Mildred's eye.

Mildred had to admit that Hope was a very good actress. If she wasn't in a privileged position to know, she would never have suspected that Hope already knew her. 'Now class, the Witches Code…'

The class turned their attention back to Miss Hardbroom, preparing themselves for an extremely boring lesson. Once everyone was looking at Constance, Hope tilted her head slightly to the side. Mildred caught her eye. With a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, Hope dropped her eyelid in a casual wink. Mildred had to force herself not to smirk.

* * *

As the class made their way to the potions classroom, Mildred took the opportunity to introduce Hope to her two best friends. Maud and Enid had exited that class room first, and were waiting outside the door. In the short time they had before Mildred and Hope joined them, they had both agreed that they would not let jealousy stop them from being Mildred's friend. Enid was very aware that she had driven Mildred and Maud apart when she had first arrived, and had no wish to do it again. Maud was in agreement, as she still felt pretty bad about how she had shunned Millie.

So, with this in mind, they both made an effort to smile at the new girl as she followed Mildred out of the room. Mildred immediately led her over and quickly introduced them. 'Hope, this is Maud and Enid'.

Hope shook their extended hands, returning their smiles. Like Mildred had first been, the two friends were astonished at the transformation. Maud spoke first, trying to hide her surprise. 'What do you think of Cackle's so far?'

Hope looked around and shrugged slightly. 'It's definitely old. It's bigger than I'm used to as well'.

Enid raised her eyebrows. 'Bigger? Cackle's is a pretty small school'.

Hope's lips quirked slightly. 'Home schooled'. Understanding showed on their faces. The two friends had made up their minds to like the new girl as best they could, yet they were unsure what to think of her yet. There was something very familiar about her, about the way she held herself. There was another odd thing about her; while most people struggled to not show their emotions, Hope seemed to struggle to show them at all.

Hope's eyes followed her other class mates as they made their way down the corridor. 'What do we have next?'

Before anyone could answer, they were interrupted by someone they had hoped to avoid for a while. Ethel and Drusilla stood in front of them, arms folded, almost identical sneers of disdain on their faces. Drusilla also looked very smug. Mildred, thoroughly annoyed, was distracted when she felt Hope stiffen beside her. Glancing at her out of the corner of her eyes, she saw with some surprise that Hope was staring at Ethel with something like horror, as if she had just seen a ghost.

Ethel's attention was entirely fixed on Mildred however, so she didn't notice. 'You know, I'm surprised that Miss Cackle even thought about intrusting you with another new girl'. She looked at Enid disdainfully. 'I mean, look at how well the last one turned out'.

Enid snorted scornfully. 'And how many times did you rehearse that little speech Ethel?'

Ethel looked annoyed. She turned to Hope, her voice very patronising, 'let me give you a bit of advice, Hope. Mildred has a reputation as being the worst witch in the school, and her friends spend all of their spare time making trouble. If I was you, I wouldn't get too mixed up with them'.

Hope had by this time masked her strange reaction to first seeing Ethel. She was now looking at the other girl with an expression of intense dislike. 'I'll take my chances, thanks'. Hope fixed Ethel with an analysing look, making the other girl feel like she was looking straight into her very soul. 'Oh… you're a Hallow, aren't you?'

Ethel, though beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable under Hope's piercing gaze, managed to look very proud. 'That's right'.

Hope smiled thinly. 'Right. Well, let me just say that, first impressions aside, I'm sure that you're a nice person. However, I think that someone ought to tell you that just because you have a long line of powerful witches for your ancestors, that does not make you better than anyone else. Neither does it give you the right to walk around belittling other people. Not everything comes down to lineage'. Hope's blue eyes were as hard as ice. 'Think about that the next time you decide to call Mildred the worst witch in the school'.

There was a small, surprised silence. Mildred was trying to keep herself from grinning widely. Hope had just put Ethel in her place, and Mildred couldn't be more grateful. There was something nagging at her though. In that moment, standing tall and strong, glaring down at Ethel, Hope had looked strikingly similar to Miss Hardbroom, and it had nothing to do with her posture.

Ethel was, for once, completely lost for words. Unable to think of a suitable response, she turned and flounced away, her cheeks burning in shame. No one had ever talked to her like that, certainly not a friend of Mildred Hubble. She wasn't sure whether she felt more shocked or angry.

When she was gone, Enid turned to Hope and said in a very serious voice. 'You've probably just made yourself a very unpleasant enemy in this school'. Enid smiled mischievously. 'But I definitely like you'.

Maud giggled. 'Did you see her face?'

The trio, now a quartet, walked down the corridor towards the potions lab, each with a spring in their step. It was certainly a better start to the day than they had had in a while. And Mildred, knowing Maud and Enid, knew that Hope had just made two firm friends. It made her feel all warm inside.

Hope couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she had just gone too far. Though she hid it well, her temper had been dangerously thin all morning. Dreams, both of her past and her future, had kept her awake all night. She'd been extremely irritated when one or two of her new class mates had noticed that something odd was going on, probably more than necessary. When she had realised exactly what Ethel was saying, she hadn't been able to help herself. The fact that both Drusilla and Ethel had spent every day at Cackle's belittling and ridiculing Mildred grated on her nerves. It was too similar to Hecketty's actions for her liking. It was childish and, well _mean, _and it infuriated her. Both of them were already greatly liked by the teachers, both of them had good grades and had a relatively easy life. _They have no idea how lucky they are,_ she thought bitterly. That was why it had struck such a nerve; because they already had things that some people would die for. They had freedom, and they chose to spend their days making life difficult for other people.

Once she calmed down a bit, she realised that perhaps she had been a little unfair. After all, they were still technically children and they'd known very little hardship in their lives, beyond a disaster at the school at least. Shock had contributed to her reaction possibly just as much as outrage. She had not been expecting to meet the girl with the haughty nose straight away. Perhaps what had surprised her most about the encounter was the lack of pure hatred in her eyes. While Ethel might say that she hated Mildred, Hope knew that it was a childish hate, a hate born of disagreements, resentment and school girl feuds. That meant that whatever had caused Ethel to look like she had in Hope's dream had not happened yet.

Hope pursed her lips as she hurried down the corridor. She was really going to have to be careful; otherwise her new friends were going to notice that she was definitely not as ignorant as a new girl should be, no matter how much Mildred tried to help. She remembered what Constance had said to her when she had come to fetch her that morning. _You're going to have to be careful. Practising is one thing, but it's easier to slip up around so many people. Even if you do shield your mind, you do inevitably hear people's thoughts, you begin to understand their actions and the meaning behind their words. And because you're so immersed in all of that, you can let slip the smallest detail that could place you in a very difficult situation. Trust me, I should know. _Hope couldn't help but wonder exactly how Constance had slipped up, and whether she still did.

* * *

Constance stood under the sheltered stone arch that lead to the castles ancient wooden gate. She leaned against the worn stone, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. She was grateful for the shelter, for it had not stopped raining since the night before, the night where all their lives had taken a dramatic turn. It was because of the rain that she allowed herself to drop her stern façade just for a moment, knowing that the rest of the school had decided to stay inside for lunch. She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to elevate some of the pressure that was causing her head to pound. Her headache had doubled over the last hour, and no amount of minor spells or potions had made it any better. Her temper had worn dangerously thin as the minutes went by and her students, sensing that the terrifying potions mistress was not in the best of moods, had stayed surprisingly quiet.

Trying to ignore the throbbing in her temples, Constance closed her eyes and concentrated on the area around her, preparing to remove the wards around the school the moment the doctor neared them. The wards she had placed around the school served two purposes. They prevented any sort of psychic or magical attack and they also prevented anyone from physically entering the school without her notice. If someone did enter or leave the school without the wards being removed, they would be immediately hit with a powerful immobilising charm. Constance had not actually told Amelia, but removing and replacing the wards required a lot of strength. To add to that, if someone did cross the wards, the immobilising charm would come straight from her. That was why she had impressed the importance of not leaving the school grounds to each of her students. If enough students disobeyed orders, there was a good chance that the cost would render her too weak to do anything. It was a risk, but she could see no other way to protect the school.

At precisely 12 o'clock, Constance felt a presence pop into existence directly outside the gates. After briefly checking the person's identity, Constance gathered her magic and lowered the wards. A wave of dizziness washed over her. Leaning against the wall with one hand for support, Constance breathed deeply through her nose. Steading herself, Constance straightened and schooled her features into a blank mask once more. It would do no good for a complete stranger to see that she was feeling weak, especially a doctor. She could just imagine what would happen if he mentioned it to Amelia.

Constance opened the door, wincing as it grated on rusty hinges. The man standing on the other side of the gate started slightly; obviously surprised that she'd known he was there. She looked him up and down, automatically gauging as much from his appearance as she could about his character. He was very tall, tall enough that he would have been able to look down on her had he been standing close enough. He had a strong, open, intelligent face, bright sea-green eyes, and short light brown hair. There was a thin pale scar marring his right temple. He was wearing dark pants and a black, well-cut trench coat that hugged his lean frame. He was holding a large umbrella in one hand, and the felt collar of his coat was turned up to his ears. Her mask slipped. There was something…familiar about him. She had the strangest feeling that she had seen him before somewhere. It wasn't even really that; she knew for a fact that she _hadn't _met him before. It was one of the things, she couldn't really call it a benefit, about being psychic – you never forgot anything. She felt more as if she _should _know who he was. Suddenly becoming aware that her surprise was showing, she hastily schooled her features again. Keeping her voice carefully neutral, Constance inquired, 'Dr Jason Sage, I presume?'

Dr Jason smiled pleasantly. 'Hello'. He gave her a questioning look.

Constance blinked, trying to remember her manners. Her headache was really throwing her off balance. 'Constance Hardbroom, I'm the deputy headmistress'.

The doctor extended his hand. 'Pleased to meet you, Constance. Please call me Jason'.

Constance was too tired and too distracted to tell him not to call her by her first name. Instead she accepted his hand and shook it. As she did, a lance of white hot pain shot through her head. It was so intense that for a moment she worried that she hadn't been able to prevent it from showing on her face. Sparks danced in front of her eyes and she screamed mentally. The pain faded after a moment, leaving a dull ache in its place. Her vision cleared, revealing that the doctor was frowning at her. 'Are you alright?'

Wincing, she nodded slightly. 'I'm fine. Just a headache'. She kept her voice expressionless. What was wrong with her? She couldn't seem to keep anything from anyone anymore.

Jason had not released her hand. He was still frowning at her, but it was more perplexed than concerned. His bright eyes flicked over her face. Realising that he had been caught staring he said quickly, 'Sorry, its just…have we met before?'

She pulled her hand away and folded her arms protectively over her chest, wondering what the hell was wrong with her head. She hadn't had a headache this bad in years. 'I don't think so, no'. Constance abruptly changed the subject. 'I'll take you to Miss Cackle now'. She stepped aside to allow him in.

He stepped into the shadow of the arch, keeping his umbrella up. Wisely to, seeing as they still had to cross the court yard. They walked to the entrance of the castle in silence. Jason kept his head down, stepping over the puddles that had formed in the uneven paving stones. He held his umbrella out, letting the wide brim cover both of them. He had grown up among wizards, and had had very little contact with witches or female teachers, but he did remember that the older wizards had spent hours instructing them to be courteous to women. Though Constance had changed the subject rather abruptly, he saw no reason to be rude to her. Besides, old habits die hard.

Constance barely noticed. She had allowed the barriers around the school to fall back into place the moment she shut the gate. Now, she was concentrating on not showing the dramatic drop in her strength. And she was trying to ignore that strange feeling that she should know who this man was.

* * *

Enid burst into Mildred's room. 'You'll never guess what I just saw!'

Mildred, who had become somewhat used to surprises from the night before, barely jumped at the sudden sound. She did flinch, her hand tightening briefly in Tabby's fur. Maud, peering out of Mildred's window, jumped a foot into the air, her hand flying to her heart. 'Gosh Enid! You nearly gave me a heart attack!'

Hope was sitting at the head of Mildred's bed, stockinged feet crossed under her. She was gazing down at an old leather bound book in her lap, and she barely seemed to notice Enid's entry.

Enid grinned apologetically at Maud and shut the door behind her. 'Sorry! But really, you'll never guess!'

Mildred smiled at her excited friend. 'Well, are you going to tell us or not?'

Enid sat down on the bed, squeezing in between Mildred and Hope, who still hadn't looked up from the book in her lap. Maud sat down on a chair close to Mildred's wardrobe. Enid paused to add suspense. Mildred and Maud leaned forward, humouring her. 'There's a man in the school! _A man!'_

Maud raised her eyebrows. 'They let one in? For all they talk about it, you'd think that they didn't know they existed!'

Enid laughed. 'And that's not the best of it. I saw him walking to Miss Cackle's office. And guess who was showing him the way?' Enid flourished her hands dramatically. 'HB!'

Maud slapped her hands over her mouth, an expression of mock shock on her face. 'No! What is this world coming to?!'

Mildred squirmed uncomfortably. After last night, she couldn't really join her friends making fun of the strict form mistress. She settled with saying, 'seriously though? I mean, what is a man doing in this school?'

Enid shrugged, sensing that Mildred was a little uncomfortable. Their friend had never really made a habit of joining in when her friends decided to tease the teachers. 'Yeah, I definitely didn't imagine it. I don't think he was a father though, I haven't seen him around and he doesn't even faintly resemble anyone here'.

'What did he look like?' Hope had finally looked up from her book, her face displaying a look of intense interest.

Slightly startled by Hope's penetrating gaze, Enid paused. Then she said slowly, 'umm…. He was tall, taller than HB, which is saying something, and he was very good looking'. She narrowed her eyes, trying to remember exactly what the man had looked like. 'He had green eyes and…oh, he had a scar on his temple'.

The buzz of conversation blurred into a distant hum as Hope zoned out of the present, leaving her just aware enough that she would know if someone asked her a question. Her eyes travelled back down to the notebook in her lap. The image she had drawn, the one she had seen the night before, matched the description that Enid had just given her. She gnawed on her lip thoughtfully. _Where does he come in? Who is he? What connection does he have to all of this? His presence here is more than just a coincidence, what I saw proved that. Why is he here? _The many possible scenarios swirled around in her head. She had learned long ago that there was no such thing as coincidence. Everything thing happened for a reason, at least in her opinion. She'd spent her entire life under Hecketty's thumb, and yet the moment she found a way to escape, she learned of a plot to kill the only other woman who had ever escaped Hecketty's grasp. That was not coincidence.

Her dream had revealed very little about him, other that he was a doctor. So she just had to pray that he was not involved with Hecketty.

* * *

Amelia had spent the morning sorting through a number of papers on her desk. After a spells class with the third years, she had sat back to wait for the doctor. She'd spent a while mulling his visit over in her mind, wondering what on earth he wanted. What 'urgent and delicate matter' concerned a student of hers? Whatever it was, it did not sound like good news. She would have gone to fetch him herself, but Constance had explained that she needed to remove the wards around the school first.

She looked up as the door opened. Constance entered first, followed by a tall, handsome man probably somewhere in his mid-thirties. She looked him up and down. He didn't look like much of a doctor, but he looked nice enough. Then again, her experience of doctors was usually of older men in white coats, and they had always seemed to have a stethoscope around their neck.

Amelia stood and extended her hand as the doctor reached the desk. 'Dr Jason Sage? I'm Amelia Cackle, headmistress of Cackle's academy'.

The doctor took her hand and gave her a charming smile. He saw an older woman, with a knowing expression and bright kind eyes. 'Pleased to meet you, Miss Cackle. Please call me Jason'.

Constance, now standing behind the desk to Amelia's left, raised her eyebrows slightly at the insistence in his tone. It had been the same when he had requested the same from her. Perhaps he was one of those people that disliked their last name.

Amelia smiled and indicated the chair in front of the desk. 'Very well, Jason, now what was it you wanted to talk to us about?'

Jason shifted in the stiff backed wooden chair, suddenly feeling like he was a student again. He had gone to a school for wizards obviously, but the chair in front of the headmaster's desk had been very similar to this one. He hesitated, unsure where to begin. It was not the easiest story he had ever told, not be a long shot. 'I don't really know where to begin…it's a complicated situation'.

Amelia folded her hands in her lap and smiled; the uncomfortable I-don't-want-to-be-here expression on Jason's face reminded her of her students. It was amazing what the effect of sitting in front of the headmistress's desk could do to her students. 'Perhaps you should start at the beginning?'

Jason hesitated. 'Well that's just it; I don't really know how this began'. He took a deep breath. 'I'll start with what I know. I work in a hospital for witches and wizards, though we take care of mortals from time to time'.

Amelia nodded her approval. She'd heard terrible stories of critically ill witches and wizards being turned away from ordinary hospitals, and vice versa.

The doctor continued, his gaze unfocused. 'I usually travel a great deal, visiting smaller towns, remote places, that sort of thing. Until about four years ago. I moved back to the hospital and took care of some of the more permanently ill patients. There was one patient, a wizard, who was in a coma. He'd been found up in the Scottish Highlands, unconscious and badly injured. He was taken to the hospital, treated, and placed in a privet ward. The coma was magically induced, and none of the doctors, even the most skilled ones, could find a way to wake him up. He was there for about fourteen years'.

'Was?' Constance interjected. As of yet, she couldn't see how this coma patient had anything to do with them, but she was willing to be patient, no matter how hard her headache was making that.

Jason rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. 'He died. About three days ago. That's why I'm here. After he died, we ran his magical signature through an identification machine, just to check if anything had come up. This had been done when he first arrived, but we'd been unsuccessful in finding a match'.

'And you found one?' asked Amelia.

'In a way. We still don't know who he was, but his magical signature identified with that of a young girl who had visited the hospital about five years previously. What you have to understand about magical signatures is that everyone has their own unique identity, but there will be similarities between theirs and someone they're related to, for instance. This man was the girl's father'. He paused. 'Do you see what I mean about this being a delicate matter? This man was never identified, no one ever came looking for him and there were no missing persons reports filed. And yet, he had a daughter'.

'Yes, I see what you mean…presumably either the child's mother thought he was dead or…' Miss Cackle trailed off, not really wanting to voice the alternatives. Either the mother could also have been dead, or she might not have cared whether he was. There were other alternatives as well, but they were hardly pleasant.

Jason nodded. 'The girl would be about fifteen now. We err…tracked her down so to speak, to this school'.

Constance closed her eyes. So that was why he was here. She'd guessed that about half-way through his story, but it didn't make it any more pleasant. One of her students had lost their father, a father they had never even known. How would they react to that news? As far as she knew, none of the students had fathers who had gone missing or died suspiciously. One or two had divorced or single parents, but nothing matching this description. She opened her eyes and met the doctor's gaze. He looked nervous and worried, and, to her slight surprise, a little guilty. 'Do you know who the girl is?'

The doctor nodded. 'Her name is Mildred'.

* * *

_**so, what do you think? Do you like Jason so far? What do you think of the little confrontation between Ethel and Hope? And what did you think of what happened at the end of this chapter?**_

_**please tell me all your thoughts! Please review!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_***Morgana's broomstick screeches to a halt and she promptly half leaps, half falls of it* **_

_***holding the next chapter in one hand and a platter of chocolate coated cookies in the other, she performs a deep apologetic bow***_

_**Sorry for the late update everyone! Life was rude enough to get in the way, and then I had a writers block.**_

_**I hope you like this chapter, as I am a bit unsure of how it turned out. Please let me know what you think!**_

* * *

_**Chapter 5 **_

There was a lengthy silence. Amelia stared at Jason, trying to process what he had just said. Mildred. Mildred had lost her father, a father she had probably never known. Vaguely, she remembered that Mildred's mother was in fact a single parent. What had Mildred been told? Did she think that her father was dead? Or did she believe that he had left them? God this was so complicated.

Constance was also staring at Jason, open shock written all over her face. She had not been expecting that. She'd never really paid much attention to her student's personal lives, so this had come completely out of the blue. Then again, Mildred had never mentioned her father.

For one moment, Constance pictured her own father – a tall, athletic man with brown hair, hazel eyes and a crooked smile. For just a split second longer, Constance allowed herself to remember him. He'd been a musician, and also a wizard, and he had been a very gentle man – the only exception being when someone, or something, threatened his family. Constance hastily pushed him to the back of her mind as the memories started to slip through the cracks in her shield. Now was not the time to be thinking of her own father. She needed to think about Mildred. Mildred, the girl who had, just the night before, comforted her when she had nearly broken down, the girl who had had to face the reality that there were four witches after her, one of whom was very powerful. Would she be able to handle a revelation like this, and so soon after? Her thoughts also turned to Hope. The girl had never known her own parents, so how would this affect her? Constance had noticed that Hope and Mildred were already very close. Mildred would definitely tell her friends. Then again, Constance didn't actually know that much about Hope. It had surprised her a little at first when she had realised how well Hope had turned out. Constance had been raised by her own family for ten years, and she had known that what Hecketty did was wrong. But Hope had been in Hecketty's grasp since she was a baby. She had known nothing else, and it was completely possible that she could have turned out as a copy of Hecketty. But by some miracle, she hadn't. She must have had a fundamentally very good character.

'Constance?' The potions mistress jumped a little, startled. She had forgotten that she was not alone. Amelia was looking up at her, her brow furrowed, more with confusion than concern. 'Are you alright? Did you hear what I said?'

Constance schooled her expression, hoping that neither had been able to read what she was thinking. 'Forgive me Amelia, I wasn't really listening. What did you say?'

Amelia's frown deepened. She was starting to feel concerned. She glanced over at the doctor. Jason was staring down at his hands self-consciously rather like a little school boy, his brows drawn together in a fierce frown. 'I asked you what you thought we should do. I don't think that it's really very wise to tell Mildred, at least not just yet, considering what happened last night'.

Jason looked up. He didn't say anything; he seemed to be more interested in what Constance had to say. Constance considered Amelia's words, relieved to find that they had been running the same course as her own. 'I think…perhaps it is best if we wait, at least until tomorrow. Let the girl recover from what happened first'.

Amelia nodded, pleased with her deputy's agreement. The headmistress turned back to the doctor. The man looked very interested, as if he wanted to ask what had happened, but felt that it would be impolite to do so. There was also something else buried behind his eyes. It looked a little like relief. He also looked a little guilty. Amelia had heard about doctors who had been unable to save their patients, and who spent much of their time blaming themselves afterwards. It looked like Jason felt the same. 'Tell me Jason…you came here to inform us personally of this man's death… I take it you also wanted to be the one to tell Mildred?'

Jason hesitated. He had never been quite sure why he had had such a strong desire to be the barer of such bad news. He felt guilty, but it was more than that. Perhaps it was because he had thought, just for a little while, that the patient was going to recover. Perhaps it was to do with what had happened just before he died. 'I…yes, I suppose you could say that. I feel responsible for what happened and I feel that I have a responsibility to inform this man's daughter of what happened'.

While Amelia nodded in understanding, Constance narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She had sensed that that was not the only reason. What was this man hiding?

Amelia took her glasses off and polished them thoughtfully on her grey shirt. It was a regular habit she was unaware of having developed. She then pushed them back onto her head, pulling her grey hair away from her face. She looked at the doctor, a long calculating look, as if she was weighing her options. Then she said; 'Jason...would you mind staying here for the night? I think perhaps it would be best if you were the one to tell Mildred what has happened. Due to certain…unfortunate circumstances, neither Constance nor I believe that it would be a wise move to tell her what has happened just yet'.

Constance felt something like alarm bloom in her chest. It wasn't that she didn't believe that the doctor's intentions were good; it was more that she knew that he was hiding something, and she was a little concerned to as why. There was also that strange feeling that she should know him. She didn't understand it, and it was beginning to irritate her. Her headache, which had been no more than a minor throb during the course of his story, suddenly increased to a sharp pain behind her eyes. She gritted her teeth, waiting for the pain to ease.

Jason stared at Amelia, clearly surprised by her offer. 'I…if it wouldn't be too much trouble then I'd be honoured. What will you tell your students though?'

Amelia had already thought about this. 'There was an incident last night, one that the school is very aware of, and your presence here could easily be explained by that'. Amelia turned to Constance. 'Constance, would you mind showing the doctor to the infirmary? It would help our story if the girls were to see him go there'.

If she saw the irritation in her deputy's eyes, she didn't show it. Constance nodded stiffly and walked towards the door. Jason glanced at Amelia, perhaps noticing the reluctance in the deputy. He stood and nodded to the headmistress before following Constance.

As they walked, neither made any attempt to engage in conversation. Jason could sense that the woman walking beside him was in no mood to talk. He found Constance's ability to keep her face almost completely blank slightly unnerving. He was usually very good at reading people, it was a handy skill for any doctor, as there were many patients unwilling to admit that there was something wrong with them, however her emotions were nearly impossible to decipher. Yet he recognised that she was in no mood to socialise by the way she kept her eyes fixed ahead. He'd learnt early on his career that almost no one could hide their emotions completely, with one or two exceptions. The silence between them was thick and extremely awkward. He had the feeling that she was resenting his presence there. He didn't blame her really, if that was what she was feeling; she could hardly be excited about the fact that his news was likely to hurt one of her students.

Constance pushed the door to the infirmary open and stepped inside. Jason followed her, immediately looking around the sparse room. He'd been called out to schools before, and he was interested to see whether this one lived up to the others. He noticed that it seemed to really just have the bare necessities. There was a cabinet at the back of the room, which probably held most of the materials. His brow creased slightly. _I hope they don't run into any sort of major trouble soon. That cabinet can hardly hold everything they would need. I wonder if this is the sort of school where they believe that potions and remedies can fix everything. _While that was true for some scenarios, magic couldn't fix everything. There were just some things that were too…bad to be fixed with magic. Breaks, bruises and cuts, sure, but there were some things that just had to recover naturally.

While Jason examined the room, Constance stood stiff and straight, trying to ignore the cold thrill that tickled the back of her neck as she was drawn back to the events of the night before. Steeling herself, she turned away from that side of the room just as Jason spoke. 'If you don't mind me asking, what has happened here? Amelia seemed to think that my presence here would make sense to the students in regards to that but…' he hesitated as Constance regarded him through steely eyes. 'I can hardly confirm that if they ask me if I don't know why I am meant to be here'.

Constance sighed. He was right of course. She knew her students well enough to know that they would ask him questions, and if he had no idea what was going on then that story would go straight down the drain. She only had to tell him the basic points.

She walked over and sat down across from him. She tried to ignore the knowledge that she had sat in this exact chair the night before, opposite a frightened young girl who would never see her the same way again. 'Last night the school was attacked by three witches…'

* * *

Amelia stepped away from the black board and dusted the remaining chalk from her hands. Then she turned to the class. The second years were sitting straight and bright eyed. This lesson was a continuation of the previous class, one that involved a mix of non-verbal and elemental magic. Each student had an object in front of them that represented an element. They had had several days to practise a charm to present to the class, and they were all brimming with a mixture of eagerness, anticipation and nervousness.

Mildred sat in her usual seat, beside the window. There was a glass of clear water on the desk in front of her. She drummed her fingers nervously on the worn desk wood, bitting her lip. After all that had happened, all her practise had gone out the window. Hope sat beside her, her expression a careful mix of bewilderment and curiosity. There was a single lit candle on her desk. The expression she wore was crafted from what she knew her fellow class mates would expect her to feel. Of course, none of them had any way of knowing that she was miles ahead of them when it came to this sort of spell. She had memorised this before they had even begun going to Cackle's.

'Now, does anyone want to remind the rest of us about what these objects are for?' asked Miss Cackle, looking around at her students expectantly.

If Ethel had moved any quicker it was likely that her hand would have been fried by friction. Amelia nodded. 'Yes Ethel'.

Grinning triumphantly, Ethel began to recite the words she had learnt by heart. 'All magic comes from somewhere. You can't bring magic into being without taking it from somewhere else. It's the opposite of banishing something; when you're banishing something you're sending it _to _somewhere else. For instance, if you conjured a chair, that chair would have had to come from somewhere. It's the same with elemental magic. Eventually, you can learn to perform elemental magic by using the miniscule atoms in the air. Fire can be conjured by manipulating the atoms on an object, or the particles in the air, to rub together, increasing the friction until sparks form, which can then be increased'. Ethel took a deep breath; she was aware that she was elaborating to the extreme, but she was enjoying the looks of deep annoyance on her classmate's faces and Miss Cackle's impressed one. 'Basically, these objects are here to provide us a source'.

Amelia smiled. 'Very good Ethel. Perhaps you would like to begin the presentations?'

Ethel smirked and extended her hand to the lump of rock sitting in front of her. Concentrating hard, she touched it lightly on the top. A spark jumped from her finger to the rock. The surface of the rock shifted inwards and twisted, bending in on itself. After a moment, the rock formed a small, nearly perfect replica of a witch's broom. Ethel let out a small sigh of relief. She had spent hours memorizing the exact shape of her own broom. For one moment, she'd nearly forgotten it.

Miss Cackle led the grudging applause. 'Well done Ethel! Almost a perfect copy!' Amelia looked around the room, searching for any volunteers. Everyone shrank in their seats feeling their confidence slip away at the sight of Ethel's transformed rock. Finally, Amelia's eyes landed on Mildred. 'Mildred, how about you?'

Mildred swallowed and groaned internally. _Just my luck. _She stared at her glass of water for a moment, calling the spell to mind. The problem, she had quickly found while practising wasn't performing the spell, it was keeping her mind focused on the object she wanted it to reflect. More than once she had ended up with some strange version of HB and Tabby. Mildred had also been given one of the more difficult elements, as she had to find a way to make sure that whatever she made stayed in that form. Miss Cackle had kindly previously suggested solidifying the liquid particles to from some sort of ice sculpture.

'_Pretend it's something you're going to draw'. _Hope's voice startled her out of her thoughts.

'_What?'_ just so that no one would notice anything, Mildred extended her hand over the glass of water and let a couple of sparks dance across her palm, letting the spell seep to the pads of her fingers.

'_You're a good drawer Millie; imagine that what you're trying to do is simply a drawing on a piece of paper'._

Briefly, Mildred wondered how Hope knew that she could draw. She shot a quick glance upwards and was slightly reassured to see that Miss Cackle was still smiling patiently. Closing her eyes, she smoothed all thought from her mind, imagining that it was a pristine white canvas. In her imagination, she picked up a brush, and began to paint. The spell flowed from her fingertips as the mental brush moved up and down the canvas, painting the picture she had spent so long memorising. Finally, as she completed the picture in her mind, she leaned forwards slightly, eyes still closed, and breathed on the object floating in front of her. There was a faint 'clink' and Mildred felt that it was safe to open her eyes. Her sigh of relief was drowned out by the collective gasp from the rest of the class.

Resting in Mildred's glass was a perfect ice replica of a rose in full bloom. The stem was long and slender, dotted here and there with several deadly looking thorns, and two leaves curling delicately from the centre of the stem. The lush petals were spread wide so that you could see right down into the crystallised centre. The light played in the crystal, sending darts of colour up and down the sculpture. Mildred found herself smiling. She didn't think she had ever been more proud of a piece of magic.

Amelia blinked several times to wipe the look of surprise from her face. She had been prepared for Mildred to not be able to do it, simply because of what had happened the night before. In fact, when Mildred had first entered the class room Amelia had taken her aside and asked whether she wanted to sit out. Mildred had declined, her jaw set with an expression of fierce determination Amelia didn't often see from her. It seemed that the girl had once again managed to surprise her. 'Well done Mildred! It's beautiful!'

Mildred closed her eyes and let her body relax back into the chair. _'Well done Millie'. _Hope's voice was impressed and also very amused.

'_Thanks for the suggestion. I probably wouldn't have been able to do it otherwise'._

Amelia turned to Hope. 'Hope? Did you learn any of this?' when Hope nodded Amelia smiled encouragingly. 'Would you like to try?'

Hope hesitated, but only for a moment. Instinct and memory was taking over, twisting Miss Cackle's voice into a sarcastic threatening tone. Swallowing hard, Hope raised her hand so that it rested just over the flame, close enough that she could feel the heat, palm up. Then, concentrating hard, she let her hand fall slowly. The candle flame made contact with her skin, licking under the back of her hand onto her palm, dancing along her fingers. Amelia swallowed as Hope raised her hand again, the flames still curling over her skin. She knew how risky this type of elemental magic was. The slightest slip in concentration and Hope would be left with a severally burned hand. Amelia had had very little time to talk to Hope, and the only private conversation between them had taken place when she had accompanied Constance that morning. Hope had struck her as a very reserved girl, not surprising given what had happened to her. Constance had informed her that Hope would be miles ahead when it came to her skills in witchcraft, yet the headmistress couldn't help but be a little concerned.

Mildred watched with a mixture of fascination and worry as the flames completely encased Hope's hand, turning it into a flaming gauntlet. The flames moved then, dancing over her wrist and down towards her elbow. The flames were nearly white, tinged with orange and yellow around the edges. Hope's eyes had taken on a glazed look, and she was staring at the rising fire as if her very life counted on them continuing to move. Quite suddenly, Mildred realised that Hope had completely forgotten where she was. In her mind, her life probably did depend on what was happening. And she would probably continue until the flames encased her whole body.

Mildred shot a quick glance around the class. Everyone was staring at Hope, transfixed by the fire. Mildred didn't know what else to do, so she reached under the table and gripped Hope's other hand and squeezed it tightly. Immediately, Hope blinked, snapping out of her strange trance just as the fire reached her elbow. She clenched her fist and the fire winked out of existence, almost as if it had never been there.

There was a stunned silence. Enid stared at Hope's hand, now resting on the desk in front of her, half expecting to see it burned badly. Instead, the skin was completely unmarred. It was almost as if the flames hadn't been touching her hand. Enid frowned slightly, remembering Hope's words to her earlier that day. Home schooled? She had believed the girl without question, yet now she was beginning to wonder. Whatever Hope had just done was obviously extremely advanced magic, if Miss Cackle's expression was anything to go by. No one that advanced could have been home schooled. And then there was the flash of alarm that had crossed Mildred's face. That brief second where her friend's eyes had darted around the class, almost as if she was worried what they would think. And, just before she'd managed to hide it, Hope had looked strangely guilty. And afraid.

So the question was; if Hope hadn't been home schooled, then where had she gone? More importantly, why did she see a reason to hide it?

And if Mildred knew the reason, why hadn't she told them the truth?

* * *

_The grand old house seemed to glow as the sun rose over the horizon. The roses, in full bloom at this time of year, lent splashes of colour to a blanket of rich green hills and tall trees. The white wicker fence was low, low enough for the dog to jump, though he never ran away. A bubbling stream ran beside the fence, snaking through the back garden before unfurling back into a larger river further into the hills. A large tree stood outside the fence close to the river. A large tree house had been built in its top branches and a swing hung from a lower bough._

_A young boy sat in the branches above the tree house, a make shift telescope set to his eye, gazing out towards the horizon. He had wild dark brown hair and his body was thin and lean. The rising sun lent a fire to his pale skin. The world tilted back and forth as she gazed up at her brother from her position on the swing. _

_They'd played pirates that day._

Constance frowned in her sleep and rolled onto her side, wrapping the blanket more tightly around her to ward against the cold. The storm that had visited the castle the night before seemed to be continuing. Thunder rumbled ominously overhead and lightning lit up the dark castle.

_A large library with shelves that towered up to the roof. It was never quite silent in the library, even if she was alone. Sometimes, she could almost hear the words in the books, the stories they wanted to tell, whispers of adventures in faraway lands. She sat in the window seat, her feet curled under her as she turned the pages, entirely absorbed by the story she was reading. It was a story about a young apprentice who discovered the excitement of controlling immobile objects. Frowning, she lifted a hand and concentrated. The books began to shake in their shelves. Soon, the room was thick with flying books as she laughed in delight, sending the volumes spinning head over heels around the room. _

_The dream changed. _

_She was lying on her back in the flower bed, gazing up at the clouds. She traced the shapes with her finger, explaining what she could see to someone outside her vision. She heard laughter, childlike and delighted. She sat up and turned to face the person sitting next to her. _

_The dream changed._

_A small white hand, her hand, held a deep purple rose. It was important. Something that she had cherished. _

_The dream changed. _

_Fire. Flames licked over the outside of the house, orange and yellow and white hot, burning everything they touched. Smoke billowed into the sky from a gaping hole in the roof, obscuring the stars. The burning wood groaned under the strain of the crumbling house. It sounded like the house itself was dying. She was standing on a hill overlooking the house, far away from the dangerous flames. And yet her clothes were singed and the smell of smoke was thick and heavy in her nostrils. A hand, harsh and clawed, gripped her shoulder, sharp nails digging through her shirt and into her skin. She was steered away against her will, even as she struggled to get back to the people left in her house. _

A thunder clap roared overhead and Constance jerked away, her heart pounding against her ribcage as the last lingering smell of burning wood faded from her nostrils. Her head was pounding, the headache that had previously faded that evening having returned at full force. Breathing heavily, she put her hands up to her head and squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to banish the images from her mind.

It had been three years since she had last dreamt about her childhood.

There was a loud knock on her door. She inhaled sharply and sat up straight, smoothing her hair back from her face and pulling her blanket more tightly around her. Once she was sure that her expression would give nothing away she called out, 'yes?'

The hinges creaked as the door opened slightly. To her surprise, Jason poked his head around the small opening. His hair stood up around his head and his eyes were heavy, as if he had been asleep, or on the verge of sleep. There was also a red mark on his cheek, as if he had fallen asleep leaning on his hand. He stared at her for a moment before he spoke. 'Are you alright Constance? You were…screaming'.

_Damn it. This is why I don't sleep. _'Umm…it was nothing, just a nightmare'. She winced, squinting slightly as the headache continued to pound behind one eye.

He frowned, noticing the slightly pained expression, much to her annoyance. 'You alright?'

'Headache'. His eyebrows went up, and she remembered that she had said the same thing when they first met.

His lips quirked in an amused smile. 'Well, I hope you sleep well now'.

She nodded, remembering her manners just before he closed the door. 'You too'.

The door shut with a click and she let her head drop in her hands. That had been embarrassing, but her more pressing concern was this confounded headache. She couldn't even remember what she had dreamed about now.

A scream, high and terrified, ripped through the silence.

She was on her feet and tugging her nightgown around her shoulders when the door flew open and Jason stood in the doorway, his expression shocked. 'That wasn't you, was it?'

She shook her head, yanking the nightgown around her properly and moving forwards into the hall. They stood in the hallway, trying to make sense of where the sound had come from, when another scream shattered the shocked atmosphere. Without thinking, Constance reached out and grabbed the doctor's hand. 'That came from the second year dormitory. Come on'. She sped down the corridor, tugging the doctor after her as the doors to the other teacher's rooms banged open. In the chaos, she seemed to have forgotten to let go of his hand.

* * *

By the time they reached the second year floor (Constance having released his hand), almost every second year seemed to be awake.

They were all crowded around one door, and when she realised whose it was, Constance felt something like dismay. 'Alright, everyone back to bed, please!' The students hurried to obey their form mistress, scrambling away from the door and into their own rooms as fast as they could. Imogen and Davina, having arrived by then, helped to hurry them along.

Constance entered the room and stopped, taking a moment to take in the scene. Hope seemed to be having some sort of nightmare. She was thrashing around in her sleep, struggling against the people who were attempting to hold her down. Enid and Maud stood at the end of the bed, leaning on Hope's legs to stop her from kicking out. Mildred and Ethel were attempting to hold Hope still at the head of the bed.

Constance was a little surprised that Ethel was there. She had heard about the confrontation between the Hallow and the new girl, the whole school had by that time, and she knew how hard Ethel held on to something like that. However, all thoughts of that incident seemed to be very far from the young witch's mind as she attempted to get a grip on Hope's flailing arm. There was a bruise forming on Ethel's jaw, as if Hope had hit her in her sleep.

Mildred, who had been the first into Hope's room when the first scream had jerked her awake, saw the teacher's crowding in the doorways with extreme relief. 'Miss Hardbroom, Miss Cackle! We can't get her to wake up!'

Constance crossed the room and approached the girl cautiously, wary of the flailing limbs. It was very clear that Hope was having a nightmare, and considering what she knew from personal experience, she wasn't at all surprised that the girl was reacting this way. She reached over and placed her hand on Hope's forehead, concentrating hard. Hope went very still, a small whimper escaping her lips.

Amelia gestured to the four girls, and they ran over, all with the exception of Mildred, who remained stubbornly by Hope's bed, watching anxiously. Davina hurried the others to bed, despite the protests of Enid and Maud, though Ethel went willingly. It had scared her, despite her attempts to persuade herself otherwise, and she was anxious to get away from that room as quickly as possible. She rubbed the bruise on her jaw, wincing slightly, and shut the door behind her. Something had disturbed her about the experience, though she couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

Constance removed her hand from Hope's forehead and the young girl opened her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she sat up. Hope's gaze travelled from Mildred, to Constance and then to the teachers standing in the doorway. Her eyes lingered for a moment on Jason before traveling to Amelia. 'Sorry. Nightmare'.

Jason raised his eyebrows. That was the second person to be having violent nightmares in the same night. Perhaps it was the storm. The doctor crossed to the bed. Amelia had taken him around to every class soon after lunch to explain his presence in the school. 'I can give you something for that if you like'. He reached into the pocket of his black woollen dressing gown and extracted a small vile of clear liquid. 'Dreamless sleep potion. It should help'. He glanced at Constance and noticed her slightly apprehensive expression. 'You can't overdose; it cancels itself out if you take too much'.

Hope hesitated. But then she reached out and took it. It might do her some good to have at least one night without vividly detailed dreams about her future. She wasn't even sure if that one had been about her future. In fact, she was pretty sure it was about her past.

She glanced up at Constance. The older woman was watching her with a calculating expression, as if she knew, or suspected that that hadn't just been a dream. Constance arched an eyebrow, a question that didn't need to be voiced out loud. Hope set her jaw, indicating that she wasn't going to answer. 'I'm fine'. She glanced at Mildred. 'Really. I'm sorry I woke you'.

Mildred reached out and squeezed her hand, deciding to leave her questions for later.

Later, when everyone had left her alone, Hope reached into her bedside cabinet and withdrew her drawing book. She frowned as she sketched the scene. She hadn't dreamt about her past, at least, the past before Hecketty, for as long as she could remember. In her dream, she had seen a young man running through a wood, holding a small bundle in his arms. The bundle had been her. The young man had clearly been running for his life, his face transfixed with fear and despair, shooting spells over his shoulder at every other step. In the end, a spell had hit him in the back. He'd twisted as he had fallen, landing heavily on his back. A woman dressed in severe black with a broom in one hand had stepped out of the trees and stood over him. The lightning had lit up her face.

That was when she had screamed. It seemed that she hadn't been given to Hecketty. She'd taken her by force from a man who had been too dazed to defend himself. Thinking about it, Hope couldn't help but feel a little relieved. It was something of comfort to know that her parents hadn't willingly given her up to a woman who had spent the next decade and a bit making her life a misery.

Abruptly, she was possessed by the strangest feeling, as if she was being watched. It crept down her spine like a cold hand and the hairs on the back of her neck stood straight. Hope jumped out of bed and ran to the window, and was just in time to see a black shape dart up into the sky. Narrowing her eyes, she could just make out that the thing had been no more than a bat. She frowned. It was odd, but she had had the strongest feeling that the bat had been watching her.

* * *

Hecketty opened her eyes and leaned back against the tree she was sitting under, keeping her face carefully blank. It wouldn't do for these meagrely skilled witches to see how much that last journey had exhausted her. It would have been a lot worse if she hadn't had the foresight to instruct Agatha and her crones to carve those runes around the school the night before. Out of all her students, Hope had always been the most resourceful and one of the more determined. Hecketty had tried her hardest to squash that part of her personality, but she had had to resort to a level of control gained through administering potions, and even then she'd never really had full control. It had to be something to do with her powers. So she had instructed Agatha to carve the runes, having guessed that Hope would get to the school without much difficulty. She had been furious when she had heard that Agatha had managed to hit Hope; she needed the girl alive, not dead.

The runes had been relatively simple. The runes were of the type that was naturally warded, therefore they would be impossible to detect unless you actually found them, and that was unlikely given their position. The purpose of the runes was quite simple; namely, they created a hole in any ward placed around that area afterwards. So, the wards that Constance had inevitably cast around the school had weaknesses that could be successfully exploited.

What had exhausted her had nothing to do with the wards. She had taken control of a bat flying overhead, an unpleasant chore, but a bat had been her only option at the time. After transferring her consciousness to that bat, she had flown through one of the holes in the wards and proceeded to cast several spells around the school. Casting a spell through another creature, especially one that couldn't actually speak, was taxing, even more so if the spells were powerful ones. It ran along the same line as casting non-verbal spells, just far more complicated.

'Well?' her thoughts were interrupted by a harsh impatient voice to her left.

Hecketty opened her eyes and regarded the other witches with some distaste. Having to work with witches who lacked great magical and mental skill was tiresome to say the least. Their general untidiness irritated her as well. She was only working with them because she knew they wouldn't give up. Well, they wouldn't now. There were some advantages to being a powerful witch, aside from the obvious, and one was the fear you could install in the lesser skilled of your kind. She straightened her already ramrod posture. 'It's done. Tomorrow, at a quarter past noon, the wards will be weak enough for you to break through. You will have half an hour to do what you must, and then you have to get out, otherwise the defence mechanisms will kick in and you will be stranded. Do you understand? No more than half an hour'.

'How do we know they will be outside at the time?' asked Bindweed, or Coldstone, she never bothered to even attempt to tell them apart. It simply wasn't worth her time.

She said, in a very condescending tone, 'It will be lunch time, and I have a way of ensuring that they will all be outside when you break through'.

Agatha rubbed her hands gleefully. 'I can't wait to see the look on that little brat's face'.

Hecketty turned a hard stare on her. 'Remember, if you don't take care of Constance you won't get the opportunity to see the look on that little brat's face. And remember, you are not to kill anyone, at least not Constance. I need her alive, and you are certainly not to touch the girl'. She never said Hope's name if she could help it. It irritated her greatly. Hope had simply been 'girl' when Hecketty had been teaching her. 'Now leave me in peace, if you please'.

The three witches departed, muttering under their breaths. They didn't like the way Hecketty treated them, but they could do little about it.

Hecketty turned her attention back to the castle, silhouetted against the dark blue sky. She narrowed her eyes and tapped her fingers on the boulder she was sitting on thoughtfully. After she had finished the spells, she had taken a brief look around the castle. Hope had clearly been having a vision, and it was frustrating being unable to find out what it had been about. Then there was the other concern. That blasted doctor. She had no idea what he was doing here, but it couldn't be anything to do with _that_. She had insured against that long ago. But his presence here was…concerning to say the least. What she had done was not failsafe, and the longer they were around each other the more likely it was that the charms would break. Looking back, she probably should have killed him when she had the chance. She bit her lip in an unusual display of emotion. She just had to hope that the headaches hadn't started yet.

* * *

_**So what do you think? What do you think will happen next? What do you want to happen? Please review!**_

_***Morgana places the plater of cookies down on the table and nudges them closer to the reader***_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Sorry for the late update everyone! A lot happens in this chapter, and it just took me a while to get it right. I hope you like this one, because I'm not sure how good it really is. You'll have to let me know :) **_

_**Please review!**_

* * *

_**Chapter 6**_

'So you are really alright?' asked Maud, her face creased with concern. The four friends were standing by the broom-shed enjoying the surprising turn in the weather. Their faces were turned up to the sky, soaking in the warmth from the sun. The sky above them was a pale blue. Clouds bunched around the school, as if they were in the eye of a storm, casting a dark shadow over the forest. The dark clouds were thick and ominous, smoothed on the surface, like they'd come up against a curved barrier in the sky.

Hope nodded again, trying to reassure her worried friends. It was a new experience for her, to actually have someone worrying about her. 'It was just a nightmare, honestly'.

Enid raised her eyebrows, leaning back against the wall of the shed. 'An extremely graphic one by the looks of it'. She tried not to show it, but the events of the night before had shaken her up badly. Not only that, but she was sure that there was something she was missing. The incident in the spells class kept nagging at her. There was definitely something between Hope and Mildred, and she had no idea what it was. There was something strange about Hope, and it was clear that Mildred new what it was, or at least part of it. And Enid just couldn't understand why Mildred hadn't told them.

Mildred squirmed uncomfortably. She had a good idea why Hope's nightmare had been so traumatising, but she had yet to have a private moment with the girl. Until they were alone she didn't feel confident bringing it up. She wasn't exactly very good at subtle hints.

The corner of Hope's lips twitched into a half smile. 'I have a vivid imagination. That isn't always a good thing'.

There was a small silence. It was lunch time, and the entire school had gravitated to the courtyard to make the most of the sudden change in the weather. It had been raining constantly ever since Hope had arrived at the academy, yet today the weather was warm and sunny. Even the teachers were out. Miss Hardbroom was talking to Miss Cackle on the other side of the courtyard, just in front of the window of headmistress's office. Miss Bat was standing close to the castle entrance, chewing on the stem of a flower, her gaze pensive. Miss Drill was talking to her, though apparently the gym mistress hadn't noticed that the chanting teacher wasn't paying attention. The atmosphere was cheerful and surprisingly calm, considering that they all knew they were in grave danger. The doctor was leaning just inside the castle doors, his eyes closed and his face tilted up to the sky. He seemed oblivious to the small group of admirers standing close to the wall of the castle, muffling their giggles behind their hands.

Mildred had felt a little better when Miss Cackle had formerly announced the doctor's presence at the school during assembly. The headmistress had shown the doctor around the school the day before, but there were naturally some students who had been absent during those introductions. Though Mildred didn't know it, Amelia had reintroduced the doctor after she had spent some time fleshing out his story. It was nice to know that if something did happen, they wouldn't need to wait for hours for a doctor to arrive.

Hope observed the doctor out of the corner of her eye, a slight frown creasing her brow. He was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, exposing the lean muscles in his arms. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his black slacks, and he was frowning. Despite his young appearance, what she had seen in her dream confirmed that he was a good doctor. She hadn't yet seen anything that might tell her that he was here for a purpose other than what Amelia had said. And yet…there was something…off about him. For some reason or other, she felt like there was another purpose behind his visit. Whether it was sinister or not was another matter, one she could neither confirm nor deny. She bit her lip, her frown deepening. Come to think of it, she had seen something specific in one of her earlier dreams, close to the time when she had broken away from Hecketty's control. _What was it I saw exactly? I should probably double check that. _Her hand moved automatically to the satchel hanging from her shoulder. The others had asked several times why she carried it everywhere, even to lunch. The truth was that she didn't want to risk losing her sketch book. She didn't even want to consider what might happen if Hecketty or Agatha got their hands on it. Her fingers curled around the worn binding but she hesitated. She couldn't take it out here, not with the others hanging around. She shifted impatiently, wondering whether she could wait until after lunch. Then again, she probably wouldn't get an opportunity to check after lunch. 'Guys, I um…I'm going to put my bag in my room. It's getting a bit irritating'.

Enid smiled, her tone laced with mock superiority. 'Told you. It would have been perfectly safe in your room'. It was odd, Hope reflected, that she was already beginning to distinguish the subtle difference between Enid's friendly barbs and the deliberate sarcastic goading reserved for people like Ethel.

Hope flashed a smile. 'I'll be right back'. She turned away from her friends and hurried across the courtyard, keeping her head down. She could practically feel Constance watching her. Ever since the night before, Hope had done her best to avoid the form mistress. Constance clearly suspected that there was something odd about what had happened last night, and Hope wasn't sure how long she would be able to hold her off. She wasn't even sure why she didn't want the woman to know that she was a Seer. Perhaps it was because there was a part of her, no matter how small, that looked at Constance and saw Hecketty. And no matter how hard she tried to dismiss the uneasiness she felt, it wouldn't let her be completely honest with the woman.

'Hope'. The girl jumped and turned, jerking her mind forcefully back to reality. Jason straightened from his relaxed position and smiled at her. 'Did you have any more nightmares last night?'

Hope hesitated. She hadn't actually taken the dreamless sleep potion. It was stashed away in the draw by her bedside, hidden right at the back. They'd worsened ever since her discovery of Hecketty's plot, becoming more vivid and more disturbing. She was planning to use the dreamless sleep potion sometime in the future. For now though, her dreams were useful. A warning system, so to speak. Jason smiled shrewdly, understanding the half concealed expression on her face. 'You didn't take it, did you?'

Hope shifted, twisting her fingers behind her back. She had literally no experience in interacting with men. Hecketty had never taken her to the doctor, and she had basically never left the house. Hecketty had a very low opinion of the opposite sex. And because of that, Hope was unsure how to act around this young, good looking, kindly man who seemed genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. She didn't want to be cold and stiff, to the point of rude, and yet she didn't exactly think that swooning over him from behind a wall was the right course of action either. She settled with honesty. 'I have nightmares a lot. They've been getting worse, so I thought I'd save it for another night'.

A frown furrowed his brow. 'Are they usually as bad as last night?'

Again, she shifted uncomfortably. _Concern. _It was foreign, and she'd been nearly overwhelmed with generous amounts since her arrival at Cackle's. Mildred, Maud, Enid, Amelia, Davina, and Constance, though the form mistress hid it well. They all had different ways of showing it. While Mildred and her friends expressed it outright and expected an answer, Amelia was more like a kindly matriarch, gently pushing until you opened up. Davina…well, she wasn't exactly sure how to describe the chanting teacher. She showed it with tea, at least that was the closest to a reasonable explanation Hope could come to. She gave you tea, offered you flowers and fussed over you. Constance seemed to prefer pretending that she wasn't concerned. Hope hadn't really interacted with Imogen, though the gym mistress had gone easy with on during gym. Both Imogen and Hope had been pleasantly surprised to find that Hope was relatively good at gym. 'Sometimes' she blurted. She was eager to escape the situation, her fingers itching to turn the pages of her sketch book.

Jason tilted his head, watching the alarm flitter over the girl's face. He'd learnt in his time as a doctor that pushing someone for an answer was not always the best course of action. Sometimes, you had to wait for them to come to you of their own accord. 'Well, if you need help with them, feel free to come looking. I'm a doctor, I'm here to help'.

Hope looked alarmed again, possibly startled by his sudden change of tactic. She nodded, giving him a quick nervous smile. He watched her turn and leave, her steps indicating that she was in a hurry to get away. He frowned again. Constance had given him a brief description of what had happened the night Hope had arrived. He knew people well enough to know that the deputy headmistress had left a good amount of the story out. He had no idea what this Hecketty would want with Hope, or Mildred for that matter. Constance had explained that there were four witches after the two girls, and that the teachers would be keeping a close eye on them. His frown deepened. It was odd, but as Constance had been explaining the situation, Jason had had the distinct feeling that there was someone else that Hecketty was after. Yet he couldn't understand why Constance would leave anyone out.

* * *

Walking quickly up that stairs, Hope opened her satchel and scrambled for her sketch pad, too impatient to wait until she got to her room. There was this nagging at the back of her mind, sort of like an oncoming headache, that she was missing something crucial. She just couldn't put her finger on it. But it wasn't a good feeling. Not all psychic warnings came in the form of visions. A lot of less powerful or developed psychics simply had a 'feeling' that acted as a prediction or warning for something that was about to happen. Most people referred to it as the Sixth Sense. If it was true, then something big and bad was about to come down. There had to be some clue, something that she had seen or heard that would explain why she felt so on edge.

Rounding the corner of the second year dormitories, Hope walked straight into someone. The satchel slipped off her shoulder and flew across the floor, her books scattering across the corridor as it went. Hope herself was knocked backwards, her shoulder colliding painfully with the stone wall. Wincing, she rubbed her shoulder, turning her attention to the girl sprawled on her back on the floor. _Damn. _She must have been moving more quickly than she realised.

Drusilla leapt to her feet, her face reddening with anger. 'Watch where you're going, freak!' The insult was not lost on Hope, though she chose to ignore it. She wasn't exactly going to go into the reason why she had a fit during her sleep, even if it would appease Ethel. Ethel was all about inheritance and ancestors (at least magical ones), and psychic powers were generally passed down through the family, strengthening with each generation.

Ethel folded her arms and stepped up beside her enraged friend. 'Now, now Drusilla, no need to make a scene. _She_ makes enough of one as it is'.

Hope turned her attention to Ethel, ignoring the unease she felt at turning her back on the more violent of the two. It wasn't hard to realise that Ethel leader of the pair, and that any sort of mildly interesting verbal sparring would have to come from her. If she wanted to get out of this situation sooner, rather than later, she would have to deal with Ethel. Hope's eyes drifted over Ethel's face, pausing as she took in the vivid blue-black bruise staining Ethel's jaw. Immediately, she felt guilt stir in her stomach. 'Hey…I'm sorry…about that…' she gestured to the mark, letting the guilt show on her face. 'I didn't mean to hit you'.

Ethel's hostile expression evaporated and she looked faintly disturbed. For a moment, Hope glimpsed something in her eyes, as if she wanted to say something important. But then it was gone and Ethel snorted. 'Well, that's what I get for helping freaks. Just don't touch me again, or you'll be sorry'.

'Yeah. Being a freak makes you special, but not in a good way'. Hope became aware of how close Drusilla was. The red head had moved to stand behind her, and between her, Ethel, and the wall, she was beginning to feel very cornered. Which was their aim, she realised. Intimidation. That was how they played on people. They backed them up until they felt trapped and then taunted them about what they considered as their weaknesses. No wonder Mildred, an extremely sensitive and somewhat naive young girl, was so affected by their bullying. Hope felt a spark of anger, similar to what she had felt when she had originally met Ethel.

Perhaps Ethel saw the anger reflected in her eyes, because the brunette took a surprised step backwards, her gaze apprehensive. Her temper worn thin by their pettiness and her impatience, Hope raised her hand. Her satchel rose off the floor and her books fell inside one by one. Hope crooked a finger and the bag floated through the air towards her, settling comfortably on her shoulder. Ethel looked shocked. Magic was rarely used outside the classrooms, except on homework, and what Hope had just done was another example of how advanced she seemed to be. Not many people were that fluent in non-verbal spells. The girl took a step back, recognising the subtle hint to Hope's action. Drusilla was less intuitive. 'Hey! No magic outside the class room!' Her hand shot out and yanked the bag off Hope's shoulder. The books spilled across the floor as the bag hit the ground.

Drusilla's faint smirk faded almost immediately as Hope turned her head. Their eyes met over the girl's shoulder and Drusilla felt her blood run cold. There was something chilling about the glint in Hope's eyes. It wasn't threatening exactly, but it was strangely similar to HB's silent glare of disapproval. Drusilla had to force her eyes to remain steady, fighting the strong urge to back down under Hope's glare. 'That wasn't very nice. I'd appreciate it if you picked them up'. Again, there was no threat in Hope's voice; in fact her voice was unnervingly calm.

Hope turned her attention back to Ethel as Drusilla found her body responding to Hope's orders. Almost against her will, the red head crouched down and began to pile the books back into the satchel as Hope spoke again. 'I don't appreciate being threatened Ethel. And you're not going to get the same reaction from me as you get from other people. I've seen…it won't affect me, so save your breath and stop trying'.

Ethel clenched her teeth, bitting back a retort. There was something odd about what Hope had just said. It was almost as if she had been going to say something else. Instead, she chose not to goad the girl further. She didn't think it was a good idea, especially considering the look in Hope's eyes. It was a mix of impatience and repressed anger. And Ethel had the feeling that the anger wasn't really directed at her, which surprised her. She had expected Hope to be angry, and though she could tell that she had riled the girl, the anger behind her eyes was a distant one. Perhaps it had something to do with the apparent reason as to why Hope wouldn't be affected by Ethel's taunting. She'd experienced worse. For some reason, that thought sent a shiver down Ethel's spine.

Drusilla straightened and held out the bag for Hope to take. The girl slung it over her shoulder and began to walk away. Ethel met Drusilla's eyes and frowned slightly, sensing that her friend had something to tell her. Drusilla had her hands behind her back and the gleam in her eye told Ethel that the red head had just discovered something interesting. Ethel wasn't sure whether she should be pleased or apprehensive that Hope might discover Drusilla's findings first. Hope turned back to them, her hand on the doorknob to her room. 'You two may think that you're on top of the world right now, that you can act however you want and get away with it. But take my advice; things are about to get very tough around here, and there won't be many people willing to stand for your remarks when it does'. With that, Hope opened her door and stepped inside, shutting it quickly behind her.

Hope leaned against the door and tilted her head back, closing her eyes. After taking a few calming breaths, she crossed the room and flung her satchel onto the bed. She was bending down, her hands fumbling with the opening, when a flash of light sliced through the window, blinding her. Hope jumped to her feet and ran to the window, even as the light faded. She placed her hands on the window ledge and leaned out, scanning the courtyard below for any sign of the cause, and froze. The screams that suddenly split the air only served to confirm her suspicions. A white glow surrounded the school, appearing to stretch from the wall right up over the roof. As Hope watched, thin black cracks split the edges, racing up around the expanse of the dome, forming an intricate web of dark magic. The lines began to burn. The wards were broken. Agatha and Hecketty wouldn't be far behind. Her thoughts raced, darting from Constance to Mildred and then back again. Finally, her focus settled on Mildred. At least Constance could defend herself.

Hope spun on her heel and moved quickly towards the door, her satchel forgotten. She was halfway across the room when the vision hit.

_Crimson blood pooled in the cracks between the uneven cobble stones, scorched black by dark magic. _

_A purple rose lay in a pale, slender hand. Long fingers curved around the stem protectively and a familiar voice spoke above her. 'Thank you'._

_An unfamiliar hand turned the pages of her sketch book. _

_A flash of blinding white light exploded into existence in the centre of the courtyard. A figure swathed in white flames blocked the way for three ragged looking witches, their faces transfixed with fear._

_Someone was crying in the darkness of a room, the soft distressed sound echoing strangely in the darkness. A figure was curled in a foetus position, the blankets wound tightly around their torso, head buried in the fur of a scruffy tabby cat. _

_A man with dark hair sat at a piano, his hands moving with familiar ease up and down the ivory keys. A soft, hauntingly sad tune echoed through the assembly hall, and a tall figure approached from the open door. _

_A witch with round spectacles and wild grey hair cackled madly, lips twisted in a grotesque smile of victory. A reddish light glowed around wrinkled hands. 'Sweet dreams Mildred Hubble!'_

Hope opened her eyes. She was lying sprawled in her front on the cold stone floor of her bedroom. Her arm was twisted awkwardly underneath her torso and her ribs and hips ached from the sudden collision. Her head pounded from the impact of hitting the hard floor and she could taste blood in her mouth. She must have bitten her lip on falling. Slowly, Hope pushed her aching body off the floor, wincing as she reached up to feel the bump rising on her head. God, she hated day visions. Day Dreams, as she liked to call them, always hit without warning, and usually resulted in some sort of injury, unless she was conveniently sitting down at the time. Reaching out, Hope grabbed the edge of the bed and used it to hall herself to her feet, grimacing as the room spun. That was another thing about Day Dreams; they sapped her strength. Apparently, visions that occurred during her sleep sapped her strength too, but because she was asleep she didn't notice, and her body had time to recuperate before she woke up. All magic came with a price. Sometimes she seriously hated her powers.

The high pitched ringing in her ears faded and she suddenly became aware of the screams and shouts issuing through her bedroom window. Closing her eyes, Hope focused and stretched out her mind, searching for the strangely familiar painted landscape that was Mildred's mind. She found it and latched onto it, focusing her thoughts into a point of clarity as she zoned in on Mildred's location. Then, keeping half her mind fixed on Mildred, she concentrated on the atoms and particles that made up her body and folded her arms over her chest. There was a slight pause and then she vanished, tugged into a swirling vortex of atoms and molecules that shone like stars.

* * *

Mildred frowned slightly, her eyes still fixed on the entrance to the castle. Jason had gone back his relaxed position after Hope's departure, though his frown was more severe than before. She wondered what they had talked about. 'She's taking a long time'.

Maud kept her eyes on the sky, still determined to make the most of the sunshine, though a crease formed between her eyes. She was slightly surprised by the worry in her friend's voice. 'Maybe she stopped at the bathroom. Why the concern Millie?'

'Yeah', agreed Ruby, 'what could happen to her in their?' She and Jadu had joined their friends not long after Hope had hurried off. They'd been delayed, but it was just approaching 12:15, and there was still plenty of time for them to enjoy lunch.

Mildred gave her friends a small smile. It was already getting harder to keep what she knew from them. If they knew about Hope's real reason for being here then they would probably understand her concern. 'I suppose your right. It's just, you know, I'm meant to be looking after her'.

Enid smiled at her friend. 'You have been looking after her. It's just a short trip, what's the worst that could happen?'

A high pitched ringing sound filled the air. It grew in volume and the quiet chatter died out as everyone slapped their hands over their ears. There was a metallic taste in the air, sharp and acrid, like blood and the air seemed to shimmer with heat. There was a flash of brilliant white light that seemed to curve inwards at the last moment, leaving an impression of shadow behind.

Mildred was bent double, waiting for her vision to return. But the hands pressed over her ears did not prevent her from hearing the sudden screams of shock and terror. She lifted her head. The school was encased in a dome of dull white light netted with thin black lines. High above them, Mildred could just see that there was a hole in the dome, rapidly expanding as if it was being burned away.

'Everybody get inside!' Miss Hardbroom's commanding voice rose over the screams and shouts of the students. As one, the confused students started to run towards the doors, where Miss Bat and Miss Drill were urging them on. Jason had moved to stand by Miss Cackle and Miss Hardbroom. The potions mistress seemed to be trying to explain the situation to the extremely worried headmistress.

Enid was the first to move. 'Come on!' The expression on HB's face was enough to convince her that the worst had not happened yet. She reached out and grabbed Maud's hand and Ruby's elbow and jerked them forwards. The friends ran across the paving stones, suddenly feeling as if the courtyard was far larger than it usually was, the doors miles away.

The uneven stones beneath their feet exploded upwards. Enid, Maud, Ruby and Jadu were thrown forwards by the blast, landing sprawled at their teacher's feet. Mildred, several paces behind the others, was thrown backwards, landing painfully on her back in the centre of the courtyard. A barrier of crackling red energy sprang into being, rising high into the air and blocking Mildred from her friend's view.

Winded, Mildred lay on her back, staring up at the hazy dome overhead. Her back felt as if it was on fire, and she wondered whether the skin had torn as she skidded across the stones. 'We meet again, Mildred Hubble!'

Ignoring her body's protests, Mildred propped herself up on her elbows and looked up. Agatha Cackle was sitting on her broomstick, hovering directly above her. Coldstone and Bindweed were floating directly over the veil, casting curses at the people on the other side of the circle. Mildred attempted to scramble backwards but stopped as she came too close to the heated barrier. She looked up at Agatha and stared into the eyes framed by large glasses. And suddenly, she felt a flame of righteous anger ignite in her chest. How dare Agatha invade _her_ school? How dare she threaten the safety of her friends? The anger filled her up, chasing the fear into the corners of her mind, burning away her insecurities and doubts. She stood painfully, glaring up at Agatha, the red veil reflected in her eyes. 'What do you want?'

Agatha cackled loudly, not impressed by the girl's brave attitude. 'I'm fulfilling the wishes of a certain witch that wants you dead'. Agatha shot a curse at Mildred's feet, forcing the girl to leap out of harm's way. 'Of course, that doesn't mean that I won't enjoy this'.

Mildred ignored the fear churning in her stomach. 'You know that Hecketty will turn on you the moment you've served her purpose. You're nothing more than a tool to her'.

That earned her another curse that she was forced to avoid. Agatha was playing with her, and that only served to feed her anger. Summoning her limited knowledge of defensive spells, Mildred used the technique Hope had suggested and sent one of the broken flag stones hurtling through the air towards Agatha, intent on knocking her off her broom. Agatha jerked her broom higher, just outside the barrier, and glared down at Mildred. 'You little brat!'

Agatha waved her hand and Mildred suddenly found that she couldn't move. Her feet were glued to the ground, routed to the spot. Mildred stopped struggling, her chin tilted up proudly and her jaw clenched in defiance. Agatha cackled madly, her lips twisting in a grotesque smile of victory. Red light glowed in her wrinkled hands, reflecting a mad light in her eyes and highlighting the wildness to her grey hair. 'Sweet dreams Mildred Hubble!' Agatha drew her hand back and threw the ball of red light towards the helpless girl.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Mildred's view was suddenly blocked as a black clothed figure appeared in front of her. Hands gripped her shoulders and the world spun as the person turned her body to the side. There was an explosion of smoke accompanied by the sound of ecstatic laughter.

Mildred looked up at Miss Hardbroom, her heart pounding with the realisation of her near escape. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see smoke rising from a scorched paving stone. Miss Hardbroom had pivoted them both, and for one moment Mildred dared to hope that the spell had missed them as Miss Hardbroom continued to stare down at her. Then her eyes rolled up in the back of her head and her body lurched forwards. Mildred grabbed vainly at her form teacher's arms in an attempt to keep her upright, vaguely aware that a scream of horror was issuing from her lips. Mildred fell to the ground beside the crumpled potions mistress, staring at her in shock. She placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a slight shake, still trying to comprehend that Miss Hardbroom had actually been rendered immobile. She looked up at the sound of Agatha's voice. 'Well, well, well, who is going to help you now, Mildred Hubble?' Mildred barely had time to shield her face before Agatha sent another ball of red light hurtling towards her.

A flash of blinding white light exploded into existence in the centre of the courtyard, illuminating every nook and cranny between the paving stones. Mildred lowered her arms and stared. The barrier was gone. Agatha and her crones were blinking rapidly, spots dancing in front of their eyes as the lingering remains of white light licked over the castle walls. A figure swathed in white flames stood in front of Mildred and Constance, arms spread wide. There was a large blackened scorch mark on the castle wall, mere inches away from Bindweed, from where the curse had deflected. Mildred gapped, recognising the person beneath the flickering white hot flames. It was Hope. Agatha and her crones looked frightened, and Mildred wondered whether Hecketty had even bothered to tell them of Hope's advanced talents. Without saying a word, Hope raised her arm with deliberate slowness and pointed at the three witches, her fingers splayed wide. The three ragged witches screamed in unison and clutched their heads, barely managing to stay aloft on their brooms. Mildred swallowed heavily, wondering what Hope was doing to them.

'Mildred!' Mildred jumped and looked up. Jason and Amelia were kneeling beside her, the headmistress tugging on her shoulders. Jason was pressing two fingers against Miss Hardbroom's pulse point, his features rigid with concern and urgency. His other hand was pressed against the unconscious woman's back, and Mildred could see that he was holding a ward of fabric. She stiffened, ignoring Amelia's attempts to get her to move. A dark liquid was spreading rapidly over the fabric, staining the doctor's hand as he attempted to staunch the blood flow. Mildred's eyes refocused to a point behind Constance and she gasped, seeing something she hadn't noticed before. Crimson blood pooled in the cracks between the uneven cobble stones, scorched black by dark magic.

Tearing her gaze away, Mildred looked up at Hope, just in time to see what happened next. The white flames licking around Hope's fingers grew brighter and shot out from her finger tips, arching through the air towards the dazed trio. Agatha screeched and jerked her broomstick around, racing her two crones towards the gap in the hazy force field as the column of white fire chased them beyond the school boundaries. The moment they were outside the walls, Hope curled her fingers, forming a fist, and the flames changed direction. They hit the barrier and raced up it, tracing the faint outline. Soon, the hole that the witches had entered through was blocked by a wall of white fire.

Hope turned away and faced her. The flames winked out of existence, leaving her body unharmed. To Mildred's alarm, Hope fell to her knees, as if the fire had been holding her in place. Jason was saying something to Amelia as the headmistress reached out towards the fallen girl, her hand still gripping Mildred's shoulder. Hope remained on her hands and knees as Amelia placed a hand on her arm, her head bowed as she took several deep breaths. Mildred gasped as cold sensation rushed through Amelia's hand, through her body and down her arms into Constance. Jason jumped, as if experiencing the same thing. Mildred felt a tug somewhere deep in her chest and her vision went black as Hope pulled her from the courtyard and into space.

* * *

_**So, what do you think? Constructive criticism is more than welcome, though again no flames please. What would you like to happen next? What do you think might happen next?**_

_**Please review, even if it's a small one :)**_


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